The Boy on the Playground
by Awahili
Summary: Booth and Brennan get called in when the body of a kid is found on a playground. But when clues are found that lead to another body, Booth calls in help from an old friend. Can they catch the killer before he kills again? Casefic with BB friendshipmore
1. Chapter 1

Okay, I'm combining two things here: my love and knowledge of forensics and criminal profiling and my love for _Bones_. I'm not really sure how I can go wrong! This will be a multi-chaptered fic, and it's all written out. I'll be posting regularly once a week, so be on the lookout. It's gonna be about thirteen chapters, I hope you enjoy.

It takes place late first season, sometime after _Man in the Morgue_. I don't own them, but if you're reading this Hart, please please please can I have them for Christmas?

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Special Agent Seeley Booth strolled through the doors of the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal lab whistling a merry tune. It had been a whole week since he'd been here; one gloriously boring week filled with routine questionings and paperwork. Now they had a hot case and he was ready to collect his favorite forensic anthropologist. 

"Hey there, stud," called a sweet voice from the platform. Booth smiled charmingly up at the lab's resident artist where she stood with Zach and Hodgins. They were reduced to racing beetles again and Angela had become so bored she was watching.

"Hey there yourself," he called back, swiping his ID card as he ascended the steps. "Where's Bones?" he looked around but didn't see his partner anywhere.

"In her office," Angela answered. "We have a case?" Booth chuckled at her use of the word "we" and nodded. He didn't fail to notice the three sets of eyes that lit up at the prospect of a case and he laughed to himself as he followed the familiar path to Brennan's office.

"Knock knock, Bones," he called through her open door.

"Booth," she looked up from her computer screen. "Case?" She stood up from her chair and stretched before reaching for her coat. Reflexively, he helped her don it against her will.

"Yeah, kids found a body stuffed into a playground tube," he said gravely and he saw the nearly imperceptible stiffening of her shoulders. It was always harder on his squints when the victim was a child. He led her out the door and through the lab stopping only briefly to let Goodman know he was abducting Brennan for the afternoon.

Police officers and paramedics were swarming the playground when they arrived and Booth had barely stopped the car when Brennan bolted out the door and onto the scene.

"I need a perimeter here," she ordered, earning her glares from the local authority. "Don't touch that!" she barked at a young officer bending to peer into the tube. Booth walked up calmly behind her and flashed his badge, indicating to everyone that she was with him and they were to do as she said. The young corporal backed away quickly and Brennan pulled her kit from the SUV. Booth stood behind her as she looked over the remains.

"Male, between the ages of eight and twelve, approximately one point two meters tall. This body is well into decomp; I'd say the victim died eight to ten days ago, and was just put here. Probable cause of death is blunt force trauma to the head. I won't know more until we get it back to the lab." She commandeered the forensics team and began extracting the remains for transport. Booth questioned a few of the first responders and got the names of the kids who had discovered the body.

"Booth," his partner's voice floated across the playground and he jogged over.

"What do you have?" he asked, knowing she would need him for no other reason.

"That," she gestured to a small scrap of paper and a small plastic figure found under the body.

"Collect that," he motioned for the forensics team, "And send it to the FBI evidence lab for processing."

"You know what that is?"

"No," Booth answered, "Not yet. But if it was under the body the killer must have left it there. I'll have a few guys from the NCAVC look at it, see what they can tell us."

"You think this is serial?" Brennan asked. "We only have one body."

"We have a dead kid and a clue. Clues mean games, and games usually mean serial. I'm not taking any chances." Brennan nodded at her partner's firm tone, knowing he hated feeling helpless, especially with kids involved. She finished collecting what she needed and gave instructions for the transport of the body before joining him in his car.

"It'll take them a while to get the body to the Jeffersonian," she said quietly. "How about lunch?" He nodded solemnly and drove off toward Wong Foo's.

An hour later, Booth dropped Brennan off at the Jeffersonian and returned to FBI Headquarters, preparing himself to delve through the small amount of evidence until he was blue in the face. Evidence processing had finished with what they'd found on site and Booth found the report on his desk.

"A fortune cookie fortune and a small red monkey," he mumbled, his eyes taking in every detail. Sighing, he picked up his phone and dialed an internal extension.

"CASMIRC, Special Agent Michaels speaking," the rich baritone rumbled through the receiver.

"Hey Nate, it's Seeley," he answered, earning him a hearty chuckle.

"Seeley! You old rascal, how are things top-side?"

"Not good, Nate. We got a case that I may need your kind of help on," he said. He and Nathan Michaels had started at the Bureau around the same time eight years ago; they had gone through orientation and training together. But Nate had been selected for the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime – an elite group of criminal profilers and investigative officers begun by Special Agent John Douglas back in the seventies, when it was the Behavioral Sciences Unit – and so Booth had said goodbye to his friend. Eventually, Nate had earned a spot on the CASMIRC by putting together evidence that solved one of the longest running serial child murder cases in Chicago. The man was good, and Booth trusted his instincts and judgment.

"Boss-man know about this?"

"Not yet. There's only one body, so it's not serial yet, but it's a kid. I'm putting in the official request for your department's help as we speak." There was a pause on the other end before Booth heard his friend sigh.

"I'll come up and take a look," he said finally.

"Thank you."

When Booth arrived back at the Jeffersonian, his squints were already hard at work. Zach and Brennan were hunched over the table, examining the now-clean bones. Hodgins had several Petri dishes of things to identify and Angela was probably holed up in her lab trying to identify the boy. He swiped his card and ascended quietly, settling for looking over their shoulders from a distance.

"It's not like you to be quiet," Brennan observed, and he couldn't help the smile.

"Didn't want to interrupt," he said casually. "We have an ID yet?"

"Angela's working on it," she answered, not looking up. "I was right," she continued, "COD was trauma to the head, two blows, though they weren't successive. The victim had gravel blocking his larynx, and some minor particulates in his lungs, which Hodgins identified as common playground sand. It looks as if he hit the victim once and began filling his mouth with gravel, only to realize the victim was still alive. The second blow was the killing one. Zach, look at this," she pointed with one of her instruments.

"His right ulna was fractured several years ago. The injury is congruent with a fall backwards; he probably put his arms out to stop his momentum. There's a step at the lateral end of the clavicle, also suggesting the injury happened several years ago."

"It looks like he had surgery to correct the misalignment. Can we use that for an ID?" Booth realized she was using this as a training opportunity and fought back a smirk.

"If we can get a hold of matching x-rays, then yes. We should have possible matches from Angela as soon as she's done."

"Which I am," Angela piped in. She held out her sketchbook and they all stared at the face of a nine-year old boy, his face split in a playful grin. "Children should be happy," she added. "I got six hits from Missing and Exploited Children, between current cases and age extrapolation."

"We found evidence of an old injury that was surgically repaired. I'll get you the information and you can narrow it down." Angela nodded and returned to her station as Brennan fed the information into the computer. Angela returned moments later with a forlorn look on her face.

"Christopher Sikes," she said, "Age nine. His parents reported him missing from school two weeks ago." She looked at the pile of bones and felt her throat close.

"Do we have time of death?" Brennan called over to Hodgins.

"Judging from the generations of the larvae and pupae I'd say death occurred no sooner than eight days ago. There are several different species I'm working out; I may be able to give you a better idea of where the victim died."

"What's that?" Brennan asked, pointing to the folder in Booth's hand. He held it up and gave the team a grim smile.

"I asked for help from an old friend. He works on cases like this. He'll take a look at the evidence and narrow down a list of possible suspect types for us to work with."

"Like a profiler?" Angela asked.

"Yeah, he works with CASMIRC, though from time to time he freelances with BAU." At their blank looks he grinned in triumph. "Finally, I get to see that look on _your_ faces!" At their continued glares, he cleared his throat and explained.

"CASMIRC – Child Abduction and Serial Murder Investigative Resource Center. They deal with law enforcement across the country on cases involving children, or serial cases, though they're just as FBI as I am. Nate's one of the best profilers we have, and he specializes in Crimes against Children. He also works with Behavioral Analysis Units from time to time." Brennan nodded at her team to get back to work as she led Booth into her office. He grabbed her coat from the rack and held it out to her.

"Where are we going?" she asked, though she pulled the jacket on just the same.

"We're taking all the evidence collected here over to Nate. He needs everything in order to come up with an accurate profile."

"He'll really be able to come up with a suspect?" Brennan asked skeptically as she collected her notes.

"I know you don't like psychology Bones but even criminals have it. And serial cases often follow strict behavioral patterns that make it easy for experts like Nate to identify the type of person we're looking for." He led her out of the lab and to his SUV, ignoring her glare as he held the passenger door open for her.

"We – I should say you – are not allowed to go to his office, so he agreed to meet us at my place." He shut the door before she could protest and studiously ignored the frustrated glare she threw at him as he walked around the car. They rode in silence until Brennan took a deep breath.

"I could have stayed at the lab while you met with him," she said finally. But he merely threw her a pleasant smile.

"'Full participation' I believe were your exact words all those months ago, Bones. Besides, you'll like Nate." Crossing her arms indignantly, she stared out the window ready to ignore him completely, but her posture only made him chuckle. "Relax, Bones. It's good to get out of the lab every once in a while. Look, I promise I'll take you back just as soon as we're done. Then you can stay the night for all I care...as long as you eat something," he pointed his finger at her. Appeased, Brennan relaxed and rolled her eyes at his antic, settling into a comfortable silence for the remainder of the ride.

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Well? Please review and let me know what you think. Things will pick up in the next few chapters. 


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you all for your kind reviews! Here's the next chapter. I know I said once a week, but I just can't wait...I love this story and had to share it. So twice a week it is. This is all case stuff, so here we go. Please let me know what you think.

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Soon they pulled up to his apartment complex and he keyed in to open the gate. When they pulled up to his building Nate was already there, leaning against a very rusty 83 Cadillac El Dorado. 

"When are you going to get rid of that hunk of junk?" Booth called amiably as he climbed out of his SUV. The mental picture Brennan had constructed of Booth's friend was completely shot as she took in the man before her. She had expected a well-dressed, educated Caucasian man, probably late thirties to early forties, with a slightly nerd-ish appearance. The man before her stood at least a few inches taller than Booth, and his frame suggested he was a boxer or wrestler at some point in his past. His dark skin almost looked purple in the sunlight, and his eyes were warm and rich, darker even than Booth's.

"As soon as you fix up something better," came the reply.

"Dr. Temperance Brennan, meet Special Agent Nathan Michaels." The man took her hand in his massive one, engulfing it completely.

"It's a pleasure, Dr. Brennan," his deep voice rumbled as he spoke. "Seeley talks about you sometimes," he admitted, "But his description didn't do you justice."

"Thank you, Agent Michaels," she let the compliment roll off easily and his throaty chuckle rolled across the parking lot like thunder.

"Please call me Nate. When someone says Agent Michaels I think I'm in trouble," he laughed. Booth laughed with him, as if they shared a private joke. "Seeley, let's take this inside," he gestured to the folder still in Booth's hand and he nodded his agreement.

"Soda or water?" Booth asked his two companions as they entered his living room. "I'd offer a beer, but we're still on duty," he gave Nate a wink, causing the man to let loose a hearty laugh.

"I feel I'm missing something," Brennan said finally. "Water is fine, Booth." Nate watched with amusement as Dr. Brennan seemed at home here in his friend's apartment. She laid her jacket over the back of the chair in a familiar manner and didn't bother checking her seat as she sat down, indicating she had been in that chair before, probably many times, as they went over case notes. Realizing he hadn't answered Booth, he looked up from his study.

"Water, please." As Booth left to retrieve their beverages Nate turned to Brennan. "Seeley and I went through the Academy together. We weren't roommates, but we wished we were. Seeley, you remember yours?" he called a little louder.

"Wish I didn't," Booth answered, returning with three bottles of water. "Little mouse of a man," he added. "I think he's in Counterfeiting now. Pomerleau, I think his name was."

"That's him," Nate agreed. "Anyway, we grabbed him and my roommate and skipped class one day. We decided to head to the local bar to celebrate our recent success on a particularly difficult test. A couple of drinks in, we look over and who do we see? Two of our professors having a grand old time at the bar! We were all so stunned to see each other outside of class I don't think any of us realized we were all supposed to be _in_ class." Both men laughed at the memory, and Brennan couldn't help the smile that graced her face. She could just imagine the two of them, many years younger, gallivanting around causing trouble.

"And you're still pushing limits," Brennan observed, her eyes dancing with amusement at Booth. He took in his tie and belt buckle and shrugged.

"I can't believe you still have that belt buckle," Nate said. "Agent Summers, our flight rep, was a real stickler for the dress code. First day we walked in he gave us this book of things we were and were not allowed to wear." Booth chuckled and set a hand on his friend's arm.

"Hey now, I think I should tell this part, or you'll twist it all out of context," he turned back to Brennan. "Summers was ex-military like me. But unlike me he had a desk job his entire ten years – all prim and proper. Spouted some Air Force reg like it was the Bible. Well I went back to my room and devoured the book, looking for any loopholes. I compiled a list of things that were not specifically banned by the dress code. Among the list were multi-colored socks, belt buckles, and certain ties. I believe the damning words in the dress code are 'garish and unprofessional,' but I try." He pulled his lightning strike tie straight, earning him mocking smiles.

"So," Nate said finally, "about this case." The smiles disappeared and Booth reached for the folder.

"This is what our boys came up with in processing, and Bones has all the forensics from the body," he motioned to the folder she was holding. Nate looked over the physical evidence, his expert eyes taking in every photo, every scrap.

"What's this?" he asked, holding up the small baggie with the scrap of paper. Booth flipped through a couple of pages and indicated the explanation.

"Just a small scrap, like you'd find in a fortune cookie. But the message is typed, not handwritten, so our guys couldn't do anything."

"So, our perp likes riddles. 'Bodies fried, Grains of steam, Heads will roll, With laughter's gleam.' The basic rhyme scheme indicates someone with a ninth or tenth grade education. It seems like the first two lines and the last two don't mesh, indicating perhaps two separate answers; parts to a whole." Booth looked over at Brennan and was surprised to see an impressed look on her face.

"Hey, you can get extensor retinaculum abrasion from one shard of bone," he teased, causing her incredulous look to shift to him. "What? I pay attention sometimes." Shaking her head, she watched Nate sift through the remaining evidence.

"Is this a monkey?" Nate almost laughed.

"Yeah," Booth affirmed. "Like from one of those 'monkeys in a barrel' things. Is his next victim going to be a monkey?"

"Funny," Nate countered. "How do you put up with him?" Nate jibbed at Brennan.

"Medication," Brennan deadpanned, causing Nate to laugh uproariously.

"I like her," he told Booth, who just shook his head and gestured at the folder. "I think that, in this case, the perp feels like his riddle is too hard – perhaps indicating he thinks himself smarter than he actually is. So he leaves another clue. Let's not focus on the monkey aspect, but rather on the barrel the monkey is from. These words – roll, laugh, grain – are all things associated with barrels. Since 'barrel' and 'steam' have no obvious connection, we have to assume his next victim will be found in a barrel."

"You mean there's another victim?" Booth said, his tone suddenly dangerous and low.

"Yes, almost undoubtedly. You see, according to the good doctor's findings, this body was over a week old. He left the body and the clues where he would know we would find them and analyze them. He's just leading us to the next body."

"So how do we catch this guy before anybody else dies?"

"We have to go find the clues left with the second body," Nate said slowly. "That might give a time frame between killings, provided your team can give time of death for the second body." Brennan nodded.

"Okay, so where do we look?" Booth's voice was still low, but now he sounded more resigned.

"I think that's where the fortune cookie paper comes in. We'll be looking for a Chinese restaurant that uses this type of paper." He held up the scrap.

"Hodgins can identify it, but there must be hundreds of oriental restaurants in and around D.C.," Brennan said. "How do we identify the ones that use this paper?"

"Hodgins said he could locate where the boy was murdered?" Booth posited. At Brennan's nod he continued. "Well then Bones, I suggest we start with the ones around the playground the boy was found in and expand to include the ones around wherever Hodgins comes up with."

"We'll be looking for barrels," Nate added, "Either behind the restaurant or in the alley beside it."

"Great," Booth jumped up and called in the information. Nate looked at Brennan with the mild interest of a scientist.

"Dr. Brennan, why in the world does Seeley call you 'Bones'?" Brennan shrugged.

"I believe it stems from his time in the Rangers; needing the companionship bestowing such a nickname garners. It used to annoy me," she frowned as if she just came to this realization and immediately began processing her memories for the exact moment when she stopped caring about the moniker.

"Did he ever tell you what nickname he got at the Academy?" Nate's eyes were sparkling with mischief and Brennan leaned in closer, a curious smile on her face.

"Okay, that's enough bonding you two," Booth barged back in and pulled Brennan up off the couch. "And you," he said, pointing at Nate, "No corrupting my partner against me. I need her on my side."


	3. Chapter 3

It occurs to me that I have not put a disclaimer on this thing. So consider it disclaimed. Except Nate…he's mine. Oh, and this guy, but someone else can have him if they want. I'm done with him. I know some of you want to know what Booth's nickname was, but you'll just have to wait...for now I appease you with a minor BB moment near the end of this chapter.

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Harold James Seethen was by no means a smart man or a good looking one; he wasn't particularly talented or wise. So his plan to hold up the neighborhood convenient store wasn't well thought out. He planned – like he'd seen in so many movies – to walk in and demand the cash register be emptied into a plain burlap sack. The .22 in the front pocket of his jacket would ensure their obedience, though he really hoped he wouldn't have to shoot anyone. The media was already having a field day with the body of that kid found on the playground down the street; he didn't feel like being their next big story. 

Harold took a deep breath and shoved his hands into his pockets, his right hand settling around the cold butt of the gun. He eyed his target carefully; he wanted to ensure there were as few customers as possible in the store. The alley next to it would provide the escape he needed, and he could always duck into Chang's across the alley if things went bad. He had taken one step out into the street when he heard it: sirens. Taking a quick look around, he watched as uniformed police officers rounded a corner and fanned out quickly, as if searching for something. Their canine counterparts were sniffing out every container. Harold felt his muscles seize as his fight or flight response kicked in. The unregistered .22 in his pocket shifted his response to flight and he took off for the alley, barely registering the bark of the dogs and the shouts of the cops.

He made it to the alley, but he could hear footsteps closing in on him. Instinct kicked in and he began overturning everything in order to slow their chase. With the adrenaline pumping through his system, he didn't notice that one barrel was particularly heavier than the others or that the footsteps seemed to disappear almost completely as the barrel opened and spilled its contents into the alley. He did, however, notice the growling that gained on him and he lost his breath as the dog tackled him, taking his jacket in its mouth and tugging. As he sat up and stared fearfully at the dog now guarding him, his eyes shifted to the officers hunched over the barrel he had knocked over. As his eyes traveled down, he fought the upsurge of his stomach as it tried to empty itself. One of the officers on the outskirts of the horrifying scene seemed to finally notice him and rushed over to cuff him.

"What's that?" Harold asked. "What is that?"

"Funny, I was going to ask you the same question," the officer replied as he frisked Harold quickly and confiscated the weapon. A call came over the radio and the officer smiled grimly. "Looks like it's your lucky day," he continued. "The FBI is on its way and I'm sure they'll have a lot of questions for you." Eager to get out of the alley, the officer led Harold back to the street and sat him down on a bench across the way. Moments later, a black SUV pulled up and Harold watched as a man and woman exited, making a beeline for him. At the last minute, the woman veered off toward the alley, barking orders and demanding everyone clear the scene. Officers seemed to scramble to comply and Harold went to chuckle, but the severe look on the man's face pulled him up short. This day was not going as planned.

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Booth watched as the cop car pulled away with a very frightened-looking young man in the backseat. He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, mentally preparing himself for the scene in the alley. He took careful, deliberate steps as he approached Brennan and the body. 

"Bones?" he asked the question with a single word and she stood upright.

"Female, same age range as the other, though probably more toward the younger end of the scale. Impact fractures on her sternum and ribs indicate she was struck with a very large mobile object, probably a car. Damage down her spine and shoulders indicates she was tied to something, probably a pole, when the car struck her."

"So he tied her to a pole and ran a car into her," Booth summarized.

"Lack of hemorrhaging and the pooling in her legs indicates she was already dead when the car hit her," she said, as if this piece of information should make him feel better.

"So cause of death?" he said, though he knew the answer instinctively.

"Blunt force trauma to the back of the head," she replied, "One hard blow."

"He's improving," Booth observed cynically. His phone rang and he grabbed it quickly, needing something to take his mind away from the gruesome scene for a few moments. "Booth," a moment of silence, then, "Okay thanks." Shutting his phone he turned back to Brennan. "Someone just reported their child missing from school this afternoon," he said gravely. "I asked to be notified if any more kids went missing, since…" he motioned to the second child's body. "They're sending me a copy of the report." Brennan nodded as she finished her preliminary scan. She beamed her pictures and findings over to Zach and stepped back so the forensic team could gather the evidence.

"More clues?" Booth asked.

"Probably at the bottom of the barrel," she answered as they stepped out of the alley. "So is Agent Michaels on the case now?"

"His department's involved, and I'm pushing for him to be assigned with us. He's a good investigator, and Cullen knows he and I work well together. That he's already familiar with the case will help, though I'm not too sure how Cullen will react when he finds out Nate helped us out unofficially." Booth climbed into the driver's seat as Brennan walked around and removed her gloves and lab coat, stashing them in the back with her kit. As she opened the passenger door, Booth took a deep breath.

"I'm running back to headquarters to get that file, then I'm clocking out," he told her. "Should I take you back to the lab, or your place?"

"The lab," she said automatically. "I want to do the secondary on this victim, establish a time of death."

"Bones, it's almost seven," he pointed out.

"And I promise not to make any of my team stay longer than they want to," she countered, "But I'm staying." He shrugged his shoulders as he smiled and started the car. As they pulled up to the Jeffersonian, he set a hand on her arm.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours with food," he told her. She opened her mouth to protest, but stopped as she saw the look on his face. He didn't really want to sit at home alone any more than she did. She nodded and collected her things from the back before setting off at a brisk pace toward her lab.

As promised, Booth entered the darkened lab two hours later bearing two bags of Thai food. He had the case folder tucked under one arm and he was cradling his cell phone on the other shoulder.

"Yeah Nate, I'm at the Jeffersonian now. Sure, just call me when you get here." He set the bags of food down on Brennan's desk, noticing for the first time that it was empty. "Bones?" he called.

"Here," her voice floated down from the upstairs lounge. His brow furrowed and he collected the food and made his way up.

"Nate's on his way over. He's been assigned officially and wants to go over the latest evidence."

"What happened to clocking out?" she teased, opening one of the bags.

"Hey, that just means no suit," he returned, gesturing to his Levi's and the dark green shirt under his leather jacket. "I wanna catch this bastard before he kills anymore kids."

"Angela ID'd the second victim," Brennan said, biting into a roll. She handed Booth a picture paper-clipped to a sheet of paper.

"Amanda Walls," he read, flipping back to look at the face of the eight year old.

"The victim was small for her age, which is probably why she was chosen. I only found a few post-mortem injuries congruent with stuffing her in the barrel. A larger victim would have required more bones broken in order to get her into –"

"Okay," Booth interrupted, slamming the picture onto the table. He stood and turned around, peering out over the lab. He tried to force the image of someone breaking that little girl's body so she would fit in the barrel from his mind. He registered Brennan's presence on his left as she leaned against the railing next to him.

"I'm sorry, Booth. Distancing myself is how I cope," she started to explain, but he turned to her and shook his head.

"I know, I didn't mean to snap at you," he apologized. "It's just…" he took a deep breath and his eyes flitted back to the folder. "I hate it when it's kids, you know?" he said softly. Sensing that this was one of those times Angela often told her about, she tentatively reached out and brushed his shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. The unexpected contact startled him and he pursed his lips at her before moving to the chair to start his meal. She followed him, feeling a little out of place; she was unaccustomed to offering comfort and wasn't quite certain how. A shrill ring broke the silence and Booth fished for his phone.

"Booth. Yeah, I'll be right there," he shut the phone and stood up. "Nate's here." He jogged down the stairs and through the doors to retrieve his friend. Both men re-entered moments later and Booth led him up the stairs to where Brennan was waiting.

"Wow," Nate gave a low whistle, "This is nice. So this is where our tax dollars go. Hello, Dr. Brennan," he flashed a warm smile and settled down in the chair Booth had been occupying, leaving him to sit next to Brennan. He reached over her and grabbed his food, shooting her a soft smile to let her know they were fine. Nate dug into the file, devouring the latest evidence.

"Your team puts time of death at four days ago," Nate said, waiting for Brennan's nod. "That assumes four days between murders," he said gravely. Booth threw down his roll.

"Which means he just killed again," he spat. "I want this guy caught," he said.

"We all do, Seeley," Nate said calmly, "Keep your head. The fact that both victims were found in the same area suggests familiarity. The perp is local, probably grew up on that playground and ate at the restaurant." He looked through the papers again and frowned. "Or not – he was very familiar with that alley, those barrels. Maybe he worked there. Did they do delivery?" Booth nodded as he took a forkful of noodles. "Okay, so the first victim on the playground he grew up on, the second in the restaurant he worked at. I'll get a few uniforms over there to snoop around. I've got some people I trust."

"Zach compared the blows to the head on each victim and found the same weapon was used: an old wooden bat, probably splintered, not finished like most are today. It was approximately one meter long and about 28 ounces. Figuring height and weight of each victim, he concluded the attacker to be between one point seven and one point nine meters tall, approximately 150 pounds, left handed." It was Nate's turn to look impressed.

"You can get all that from two fractured skulls?" He caught Booth's smug smirk and pointed his finger. "You watch out, Seeley, or I just may swipe her to come work with me." Brennan chuckled at Booth's fake glare and didn't fail to notice the arm he draped over the back of the couch possessively. Nate noticed as well, but wisely refrained from pointing it out to the already agitated agent.

"More clues?" he moved on to the rest of the items in the folder. Another scrap of paper, this one a torn corner of a bluish sheet, and a pair of old broken glasses. "These belong to the victim?"

"No, her nasal structure didn't indicate she wore glasses, and the state of the frames suggests those have been abandoned for some time. He probably just picked them out of a trash can," Brennan answered.

"Maybe not," Nate murmured, tumbling the evidence through his head again. "This riddle is deeper than the other; the rhyme scheme is still simple, but the meter is different. 'The eyes of dearest are in reach, no one saw, no one sees.' Visual focus, but why would he use both 'saw' and 'sees'?"

"Seesaw?" Booth offered, only half-joking, but Nate's head snapped up.

"Yeah, seesaw. But what does that mean? Is there a seesaw at the playground where the first body was?" Brennan sifted through a few photos of the scene, but couldn't locate one.

"No, no seesaw. Maybe it's a metaphor," she offered, knowing she was no good at the psychological aspect but willing to try.

"'Eyes of dearest' someone he loves? Loved? Seesaw would indicate childhood, but a rickety one, unbalanced. He may be alluding to his own. I'd guess these glasses were his. No prints?" Booth shook his head. "Well, this is less precise than the other, but the next victim will probably be found at his childhood home, most likely in the same neighborhood where you found the first two victims." Booth nodded and indicated Brennan's findings on the weapon and attacker.

"Get your uniforms those stats," Booth added. "Someone had to have seen something." Nate nodded as he stood and pulled his phone out, leaving the partners to eat in peace.

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Oh my, things are getting interesting now. Whatcha think? More to come soon. 


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to everyone who reviewed (and even those that didn't!). It's great to know you're still with me. Here's the next installment.

* * *

"We have a list of every delivery boy from Chang's since they opened fourteen years ago." Booth held up the list triumphantly as he ascended the platform. "The ones that are still working there have solid alibis and I've got several agents tracking down the others."

"Have you notified the victims' parents?" Brennan asked from where she was hunched over the remains of the second child. He sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face. This was the part of his job he hated.

"I was actually on my way. Did you want to go?" he asked, knowing she would probably want to stay with her bones. But to his surprise, she stood up tall and snapped her gloves off.

"Let me grab my coat," she said. "Zach, keep working on the skull. I'd like to get an exact measure of the bat used, and the force behind the blows. Also, see if you can narrow down the type of vehicle that struck the victim."

"Yes, Dr. Brennan." Zach rushed over to take over her spot as she glided into her office. Seconds later, she rejoined Booth by the stairs laden with her jacket and the files she needed.

Brennan observed her partner silently as they walked out to his SUV. There were circles under his eyes as if, despite his exhaustion, he'd stayed up most of the night. _Probably couldn't sleep_, she told herself. They had left the Jeffersonian around eleven, but she had taken a few files home to look over. She guessed he had done the same, but was less accustomed to it than she; and he was paying the price today.

But the weariness on his face was more than physical exhaustion, she told herself, wondering at the same time when she had gotten so good at reading him. This case was taking a toll on her partner, and she had recognized his need for her to be with him; why he had dropped by the lab before going to see the parents. Telling someone their loved one was murdered never got easier, but the burden was lighter if they shared it together. She'd never abandon him to face that kind of heady confrontation alone, and she knew he was there for her, too.

He opened her door for her, and she shot him a perturbed glare. Sometimes, she thought, it was best to at least act as though everything was normal. He shot her a smile that was both mockingly apologetic and grateful before shutting the door and striding quickly to the driver's seat.

"Are they together?" Brennan asked suddenly, causing Booth's brow to furrow in confusion. "The parents," she clarified. "I was just wondering if both sets of parents were going to be told at the same time or if we were doing this twice." He nodded in understanding; she wanted to prepare herself.

"We thought it best if we did it separately," he said. "But Nate's waiting for us at Headquarters. He agreed to help us out and tell Amanda Walls' parents."

"Which leaves us with Christopher Sikes' parents," Brennan acknowledged. "I have to admit, I'm a little relieved. I hate this part." Booth sighed in agreement, knowing words were not necessary.

* * *

"We're sorry for your loss," Brennan said, remembering all to well the words Booth had taught her to use. It saddened her to realize she had become nearly comfortable saying them. The couple across the table from them cried openly for the loss of their youngest son. 

"How will we tell Jason?" Mrs. Sikes asked her husband. He merely shook his head.

"I don't know," he answered, then turned to the two people across from them. "Our oldest son, Jason, didn't go to school that day because he was sick. He's very protective of Chris – was very protective."

"We noticed some lateral step on his right clavicle, possibly from a fall resulting in a break or dislocation," she didn't ask a question, but it was implied.

"He fell out our tree when he was four," Mrs. Sikes answered. "Jason had dared him to climb it. He felt so guilty afterward," she smiled at the memory. "He helped Chris with everything for months, and he was so scared of Chris hurting himself again. He never regained full motion in his shoulder."

"How did he get taken from school? He supposed to be safe there," Mr. Sikes demanded.

"We're still looking into how he disappeared," Booth said firmly. "We have several agents at the school questioning everyone, and we've retrieved the security tapes from that day." The couple stood and Mr. Sikes held out his hand to Booth.

"Thank you, Agent Booth. I trust you'll contact us if there's anything else?" Booth took the man's hand.

"Count on it." He moved to open his office door for them as they shook hands with Brennan. "And feel free to call me if you have any more questions."

* * *

Brennan walked into the work the next morning yawning. She hadn't slept much, but her bed was ultimately more comfortable than the couch in her office. She noted the time and mused that even sleeping in she was an hour earlier than everyone. Zach had identified the exact bat used, as well as the make of the car used to strike the second child. Hodgins was very close on piecing together the particulates from the first victim to locate where he was killed. 

Today she was going to focus on pulling as much evidence from the bodies as she could in order to speed up the release process once they closed this case. Their parents deserved that at least, and Brennan was going to make sure they didn't have to wait one minute longer than necessary.

Slowly the lab began filling up and she said hello to her team as they trickled in. Angela moved to her office, moving on identifying a limbo case while there was nothing for her to do on this one. Hodgins moved quickly to his workstation and began in on his tests again, sifting through the results and cross-referencing them with locations. Zach joined her on the platform and wordlessly began working on identifying the model of Chevy that was used to strike Amanda Walls.

Lunch came and went with no word from Booth, which would have been fine if Brennan wasn't expecting an update on possible leads gained from the delivery boy angle, as well as more information about the child reported missing two days ago. She dialed his office phone, then his cell when he didn't pick up at the Bureau. But his cell went to voicemail after a few rings and she left a quick message asking him to call her. Normally, she would have gone straight back to work, but she found that her feet wouldn't take her out of her office. She hovered over the phone, not expecting it to ring, but feeling as if she should make another call. Sighing and cursing Booth silently for rubbing off a little too much on her, she followed her gut and picked up the receiver, dialing a number off a slip of paper.

"CASMIRC, Agent Michaels," the deep baritone reverberated in her ear.

"Agent Michaels…Nate," she started," It's Dr. Brennan…from the Jeffersonian," she added unnecessarily. His quiet laughter was her response.

"What can I do for you?" She had been a bit nervous calling a man she barely knew to ask what would probably be conceived as an overly concerned question. But as she spoke with him, her worries vanished and she simply asked.

"Have you seen or heard from Booth today? He's not answering either phone, and he didn't say he had any meetings planned." The agent on the other end paused, and Brennan's heart skipped a little.

"He was called out early this morning," Nate replied sadly. "Someone found two bodies in a landfill in Maryland. The bodies were kids, so they called the FBI and Cullen sent him out. He called me as he was leaving and said he was going home to shower and catch a nap, but he should have been in by now."

"Why didn't he call me?" Brennan pursed her lips, a surge of something indefinable rising up in her, but Nate's low chuckle washed it away.

"Don't worry, Dr. Brennan," he replied, "Seeley knows I'm a night owl, knew I would be up. When I say early this morning, I mean three AM. He probably didn't want to wake you unless he knew they were related. Since the bodies were found together in a landfill, it didn't fit our perp's MO. I think he put the request through the field office to get the bodies sent to the Jeffersonian though," Nate added as an afterthought. "They may be coming in this afternoon, along with a lot of garbage."

"Hodgins will be thrilled," Brennan smirked, thinking about how excitable her entomologist could be about trash.

"Still, if Seeley hasn't checked in yet…" Nate trailed off before sighing. "I'll call Jackson. He works in homicide near Seeley; I'll see if he's come in yet."

"Thanks, Nate," Brennan replied.

"Not a problem. I'll call you right back." Brennan hung up and dialed Booth's cell again, then his home number. He didn't answer his cell, so she was mildly surprised when his voice answered tiredly from his home phone.

"Bones?"

"Booth, it's one in the afternoon," she stated simply, "And Nate tells me you went to a scene without me." Now that she knew he wasn't dead or injured, she found herself very annoyed at him.

"It was early, and we didn't even know if it was the same," he answered, but his voice held none of the usual edge it did when they bantered; he just sounded tired.

"Have you been sleeping this whole time?" she lost her steam at his defeated tone and it was replaced with concern for her partner.

"No," he admitted. "Did you say one? Damn," he muttered and she heard him shuffling around. "Look, I'll get dressed and be there in an hour. You know what, better make that two because Cullen's gonna tear me a new one."

"I don't know what that means," she responded, only partially meaning it. She was somewhat familiar with the phrase, but her response got the desired effect when he chuckled.

"See you later, Bones." No sooner had she hung up when her phone rang.

"I found him," she said in lieu of a greeting. "He's at home, but on his way in."

"That's good news," Nate said. "I'll call Cullen and cover." And then he was gone, and Brennan returned to the platform feeling a little better.

* * *

"Hey Bones," Booth said an hour later as he swiped his card and ascended the platform. She was hunched over one set of remains from the landfill, the second table beside her strangely empty. She returned the greeting without looking up and she felt rather than saw him settle himself against the railing behind her. 

"Dude, what's the matter with you?" Hodgins asked, causing Brennan to look up at her partner, who was currently glaring daggers at the entomologist. His face was clean shaven, but she could see where he'd nicked himself along the jaw. Where she could use make up to hide the physical evidence of her exhaustion, he could not, and the dark circles beneath his eyes belied his energy.

"Rough morning. And don't call me dude," he snapped back, and Hodgins wisely refrained from further commentary.

"This one is male, eight to ten years old," Brennan said. "Zach found evidence of knife wounds on both victims, but the older set of remains indicates more sporadic and rougher treatment." She snapped off her gloves and gestured behind her to the second table. "Zach's cleaning the bones of the other victim. Female, between eleven and fourteen," she told him. "Hodgins pulled what he could from them, and we'll get the skull to Angela for identification as soon as we can." Booth had stood unmoving with his arms crossed over his chest for her entire spiel. As her report wound down, he began pacing.

"What's taking so long?" he demanded, and she saw Hodgins jerk in his chair from the corner of her eye.

She knew he was agitated, and she knew his boss was putting pressure on him to solve this case, but he would do no good lurking around her lab snapping at her people.

"Nate covered for you with Cullen," she told him firmly, moving to stand in his pacing path, putting her hands on her hips. "You should go call him and thank him." She gestured toward her office and her message was clear. _You're not taking it out on us._

He stopped short and took in her posture and tone, realizing how he'd just sounded. He let out a sigh and ran his hand over his face. "Yeah," he said finally. "Sorry." And he moved into her office to make the call.

"CASMIRC, Agent Michaels."

"Hey Nate."

"Seeley, how are you today?"

"I'll be better after a good night's sleep. Bones tells me you're the one who kept Cullen off my back." It wasn't a question and a noncommital grunt was his reply. "Thanks Nate."

"That doctor of yours is something else, Seeley. Just about spit nails when I told her you went out to Maryland without her."

"So you're the culprit," Booth smirked. "Remind me to thank you later."

"Think nothing of it," Nate returned, and Booth could hear the smile in his voice. "How is she doing with the vics?"

"They just got 'em," Booth replied. "She and Hodgins are working on the boy now, and Zach's finishing up with the girl so Angela can make an ID."

"That's a lot of squints to deal with on a regular basis," Nate joked, but Seeley missed the sardonic tone and jumped to their defense immediately.

"They're good people," he bit back, "and damn good at their jobs."

"Hey, Seeley, I was just kidding," Nate backpedaled quickly. "I know they are." For the second time in five minutes, Booth sighed and apologized to a friend. "It's alright, Seeley. You take care, and call me when you have anything."

"Likewise, Nate." After he hung up he debated on going back out into the lab, but decided they could probably work better if he wasn't breathing down their necks. He moved over and sat on Bones' couch, looking around her office as if for the first time. He smiled at the memory of meeting her as he sat back against the soft cushions.

* * *

The next chapter will just be Booth and Bones' first meeting. I've always wanted to write one, so I decided to stick it in here. Sparks will fly...or are those gunshots? So hard to tell with those two... 


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, so I thought about writing a separate fic about Booth and Brennan meeting for the first time, but I figured I'd just stick it in here. So I present…the first case.

* * *

_Thirteen months ago…_

"Dr. Temperance Brennan, Medico-Legal lab?" the man inquired, politely thanking the guard as he was pointed across the large garden area. Mumbling to himself about squints and labs, he made his way to the large building. As he walked in he saw all manner of squints bustling about back and forth.

"Great," he murmured again, glaring at a couple of young scientists that got too close. Following a couple of signs, he finally found his way to the Medico-Legal lab. He stepped through the glass doors and took in the pristine conditions around him.

"Can I help you?" one of the security guards approached him and he pulled his badge from his pocket.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI. I'm looking for Doctor Brennan, we have a meeting."

"On the platform, sir, but you can't – "

"Thanks," he flashed a polite smile and jogged up the steps. As soon as he passed the sensors, though, a shrill alarm sounded and he clapped his hands over his ears.

"Who are you?" a man demanded, and Booth once again flashed his badge.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth I have –"

"You do not have permission to be up here!" a woman's voice demanded and Booth whirled on her. But he stopped short as the tenacious woman stood firmly in front of him, hands on her hips, glaring him down. He had heard from the last Jeffersonian liaison that she was stubborn, brilliant, and insufferable, but they had failed to mention her raw beauty. He automatically flashed a smile that she would later deem his "charm smile," the one that usually won people over for him. She, however, seemed to ignore it completely as she snapped her gloves off.

"There's a reason those sensors are there, Agent Booth. You could have waited for me in my office." She gestured down off the platform and Booth followed her arm to the open door of her office. A young man swiped a card with the security guard to stop the alarm, and Booth found his ears ringing in the ensuing silence. But it seemed as if the woman before him was not finished.

"These are very sensitive remains that cannot be compromised," he realized she was talking about the set of bones on the table behind her, and he grimaced.

"They're just bones," he said. "It's not like they're going anywhere. This case, however…" he held up a file, but she had moved away from him back to the table.

"In my office, Agent Booth. I'll be there momentarily." He furrowed his brow at the curt dismissal and he stepped toward her.

"Look, I'm a federal agent with an official order to procure your services for this case. I'm afraid these bones will have to wait." He stepped closer to her, but she whirled around and tensed at his proximity, causing him to back up a step, but no further. The staring contest had begun, neither wanting to give any ground.

"Dr. Brennan," a deep voice called from the doorway, and she was forced to concede to the agent to look at her boss.

"Dr. Goodman," she replied, and Booth finally felt like things were going his way. Goodman was a well-known advocate of FBI-Jeffersonian cooperation, and Booth stood up a little taller.

"Dr. Goodman," he started, "thank you for allowing the FBI to utilize your staff's expertise. I was just telling Dr. Brennan here about the case." But Goodman wasn't paying attention; his eyes were focused on Dr. Brennan's form once again hunched over the remains.

"Dr. Brennan, please tend to Agent Booth at your earliest convenience," he said firmly, earning a nod from his anthropologist. Booth was about to protest when Goodman stepped up beside him and led him slowly to Brennan's office. "I've found that sometimes it's just easier not to argue. I'll be sure she comes right in." Booth nodded his thanks but turned back around when the administrator called his name. "I'd hate to tell your superiors that you've been manhandling my staff," he warned. Booth nodded, properly chastised, and began looking around the office.

A few awards donned the wall behind her desk just like in his office. But unlike his military and FBI service awards, Brennan's were all squint-based. The bookshelf on his right was filled with medical journals, anatomy books, reference materials, and other things that would be useful in her day to day work. Several files sat unopened in the inbox on her desk and her screen saver whirled away on the computer screen. He spotted a couch against the windows next to the door and took in its worn appearance; someone had spent many nights on that couch. He also noticed the lack of personal photos that usually adorned offices and wondered briefly about her family.

"Agent Booth," Brennan's voice sounded from the doorway as she strode in and took off her blue lab coat. He turned from his inspection of her bookshelves and smiled at her. She hung her coat up and took a seat behind her desk, completely oblivious at his attempt to charm her. She looked up expectantly and he held out the case file. She opened it to photos of a decomposed corpse, autopsy reports, and a case file.

"This is what we found two nights ago in an alley behind a local nightclub. We're still trying to track down possible leads, but my boss, Assistant Director Cullen, wants answers now. Since this is your specialty and the Jeffersonian has been more than cooperative in the past…"

"The victim was female, between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. Pelvis suggests she hadn't given birth. Approximately one point three meters tall. She was killed with a common kitchen knife, the large one usually found in a knife block. She was stabbed three times in the chest; the second one was likely the fatal one. Her attacker was approximately five feet ten inches tall, probably around two hundred pounds…someone she knew." She said all this without looking up from the folder and Booth found himself scoffing.

"How in the hell can you get that from just looking at the autopsy x-rays?" he said doubtfully. She laid out the photos on her desk and began pointing as if lecturing to a student.

"This was the first stab here," she indicated a small knick on one of the ribs, "It's not as deep as the others, but the measure of tearing around the area suggests she was struggling. The second one, here, is the deepest with the most amount of…wriggling," she fought for the term. "The third stab shows almost no defensive movement, indicating she was already dead or unconscious. The angle of the stabs gives the height of the attacker, and the depth of the wounds suggests weight." Booth shook his head.

"Someone she knew?"

"The parry fractures on her ulnae indicate the person was very close when they attacked her. If she were out in an alley it's safe to assume she wouldn't let someone in her personal space unless she knew them." Brennan stood up and reached for her lab coat. "Was that it, Agent Booth? I'd like to get back to my remains as soon as possible. I'm leaving for Guatemala in a few weeks and I won't be back for two months."

"Guatemala? Nice vacation spot?" he asked casually, though not really interested; his mind was still reeling with the information she had supplied.

"I'm going to identify bodies found in a mass grave site there," she replied coolly.

"Sounds like loads of fun. Listen," he continued quickly, "this whole 'five ten' guy, someone she knew? I don't buy it. There's no way you can tell that from just looking at the x-rays."

"I'm very good at my job," Brennan snapped back.

"I don't doubt that but when it comes to murder investigations, that's sort of my thing. There's nothing to back up your theory." His voice held an edge she didn't like.

"It's not a theory," she returned just as hotly, "My consultation is based on the empirical evidence provided, and I stand by it. You don't want my help? Don't ask." With that, she turned and stormed out, effectively silencing any retort he may have had.

She didn't count on him following her like an annoying puppy. "Look, Bone Lady, it may be all data and facts for you here, but in the real world I have to deal with people. Real live people who think and act and feel like normal human beings. That may be a concept you don't understand."

"I am Doctor Temperance Brennan," she reeled on him, pointing a finger in his face. "I worked very hard for my title, I'd thank you to use it."

"Oh come on, you never had a nickname? Or do you make your parents call you Doctor Brennan?" he joked. She hid it well, but he thought he caught a glimpse of something he couldn't define – something that looked almost like grief – and he hoped he hadn't just made an ass of himself.

"Agent Booth, is there anything else I can do for you?" He looked down at the folder in his hands then back up at her. She was probably the most annoying person he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, and he found himself smiling at her automatically.

"You know what? I don't think so, but if there is, I'll be sure to give you a call." She nodded and ascended the platform as he walked out the doors back to his SUV. As he placed his stylish sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, he glanced back down at the case folder and chuckled. _No way_, he thought, _squints don't solve murders, cops do_.


	6. Chapter 6

Wow! Thanks guys! Your reviews mean so much to me, and I'm glad you enjoyed that look into the past. We're back in present day here, so hang on. It gets bumpy here.

* * *

Brennan looked up from the remains of ten year old Joshua Holton and stretched her muscles. Angela had provided ID's for both victims fairly soon after the tissue markers had been applied. Booth hadn't said goodbye, but Brennan assumed he was caught up in some part of the case and just forgot. She mentally smacked her forehead as she remembered she hadn't called Booth about the identifications. She pulled her cell out and rang his office number, but there was no answer. _No wonder_, she said, noting the time. It was nearly eight in the evening, and he'd gotten up early to go to the landfill. She wouldn't be surprised if Cullen had sent him home early to catch up on rest before hitting the case hard tomorrow. If she could tell something was wrong with him, a seasoned investigator like Cullen would surely notice. 

Realizing that it was unlikely that he'd be asleep by now, she called his cell phone. Angela had gone home two hours ago, just after IDing both victims. Zach and Hodgins soon followed, telling her they were coming in early tomorrow to get a fresh start on the evidence. Hearing a noise in her office, she steadily walked down the steps and down the hallway, still holding the ringing cell phone to her ear. As she neared her office, she realized the sound she was hearing was a ringtone on a cell…Booth's cell.

_Must have left it here_, she mused as she hung up and walked in. There it was on her desk right next to his keys. Furrowing her brow she turned her head quickly, her features softening as she took in the sight before her.

He was there, sprawled out somewhat haphazardly on her couch, as if he'd fallen asleep sitting up and just fallen over in the course of his nap. One arm was thrown over his eyes to block out the bright lights of the lab outside and he was snoring softly. His suit was mussed up and wrinkled now, but Brennan just thought that made him look more adorable. Chuckling to herself, she moved closer.

"Booth," she whispered as she neared him, not wanting to catch a Ranger unawares in such close proximity. He took in a quick breath and swallowed a couple of times sleepily before rubbing his face. After taking a second to wake up, he opened his eyes and immediately took in his surroundings.

"Time?" he asked groggily, and she smiled sheepishly.

"Uh, it's just past eight now," she said softly and winced as he shot up off the couch.

"Eight!" he cried. "Why the hell didn't you wake me up?" She raised her hands in defense as he gestured wildly.

"Hey, whoa Booth," she remanded, "I didn't know you were in here, honestly. I thought you'd gone back to the Bureau. I got so wrapped up in work I didn't even know what time it was until I realized I hadn't called you about the IDs."

"Six hours?" he said, more to himself than her, and she took a step closer.

"Guess you didn't get a lot of sleep this morning?" she empathized. He ran a hand down his face in what she was beginning to recognize as a sign of frustration on his part.

"No, I didn't. You said you had IDs?" She nodded and led him back to the platform, where the files were laid carefully next to each victim.

"Joshua Holton, age ten, went missing from his apartment complex four weeks ago. And this is Vanessa Sanderson, age thirteen," she motioned to the other table. "Reported missing when she didn't show up for piano lessons about five weeks ago."

"Same guy?" he asked her.

"Yes, we didn't see it before because we were focused on the knife marks. But each victim was hit on the head with the same bat used to kill the other two."

"But these two weren't staged, why?"

"I don't know, but decomp and time of death indicates both were dead before Christopher Sikes was killed, by a few weeks; the boy first." She swallowed hard as she pictured the faces of the two children they had found already, and she dreaded having to tell two more families that their loved ones would not be coming home.

"Alright, let me call Nate," Booth said, fishing for his cell phone. She rolled her eyes and pointed toward her office, and he shot her a sheepish smile. "Thanks, Bones," he said, and she suddenly felt as if he meant something deeper. He was gone before she could think about it further and she turned back to the remains. Moments later he returned, letting out a deep sigh.

"Nate's on his way," he told her. "He got the preliminary reports and he may have something else about the doer." She nodded absently, already wrapped up in her work, and he took this opportunity to just watch her in her element. She moved with grace, he noted, and determination, but not without a gentleness that belied her usual brass approach to problems. Just like him, she always took the cases a little harder when they dealt with children.

"If all you're going to do is stand there and stare at me, you may as well make yourself useful," she said without looking up, but he grinned at her anyway. She gestured over to a workstation and he moved obediently. "There's a stack of notes Hodgins compiled with Zach; could you put them in some order? Normally I'd do it before turning it in to Dr. Goodman, but you can probably handle that." He caught her smirk and huffed indignantly, looking around his immediate area. Not finding anything suitable for throwing, he settled for sticking his tongue out at her back.

He sifted through the notes, his eyes completely glazing over the scientific jargon he so studiously ignored on a day to day basis. Instead, he just looked at the top of the reports where the victims' names were displayed. Once he had each victims' reports separated, he put them in order of death, starting with their newest cases. Once that was done, he stacked them neatly and put them in empty folders, labeling each one clearly with the name of the victim it belonged to. Satisfied, he turned around to ask what else he could do when his phone rang.

"Booth," he answered, though his caller ID had already told him it was Nate. "Sure, I'll be right down." He shut his phone and left Brennan on the platform as he went out to greet his friend. The security guard at the desk smiled at Booth politely before opening the door, allowing the agent out. Booth stopped in his tracks and watched amused as Nate tried to juggle folders, two bags from the local burger joint, and three sodas. It would have been comical in any situation, but the sight of the burly agent trying desperately not to drop anything made Booth burst out with laughter.

"You could help, you know, instead of standing there," Nate scowled, and Booth moved to take the drink holder from him. "Thank you." The guard held the door as they entered and Booth led the way to the Medico-Legal lab.

"Bones, Nate is here," he called as the doors opened, and Brennan finally looked up and offered the other man a friendly smile.

"Well, hello Nate," she greeted. "What is that?" she pointed to the bags.

"Well, if you've been here the whole time," he said this to Booth, "Then you haven't forced her out to eat something, which means you haven't eaten either. And since people gotta eat…" he trailed off and held up the bags, causing Brennan to roll her eyes and laugh.

"Men," she muttered, but snapped her latex gloves off and descended from the platform. Taking the bags from Nate, she led the two agents up the far stairs and over to the lounge. Once the food had been distributed, Nate opened a file and perused it.

"You have a murder weapon yet?" he asked and Brennan nodded around her burger.

"Yes, the same bat that was used on the other two victims, but these two had evidence of knife wounds on their ribs and sternum consistent with a military issue knife." Nate nodded thoughtfully, taking another bite.

"Military issue? That doesn't fit…our profile doesn't have the guy graduating high school. GED maybe?" He scribbled down some notes as if talking to himself and Booth shook his head.

"He gets like this sometimes. I once saw him get so wrapped up studying for a test he didn't even realize his mother had called. He was holding the phone to his ear and answering all her questions with textbook answers; she was completely confused."

"And as I recall, you took the phone and proceeded to tell her I was busy studying for an undercover assignment that would have me cross-dressing as a hooker." Booth laughed at Brennan's horrified expression.

"Booth, you didn't!" she whirled on her partner, and his grin morphed into a defensive smirk.

"Hey, I was young and immature, and I had just gotten out of the Army. Those guys are not exactly known for their tact in social situations. Anyway, it all ended well; I even got photos." His grin was back in full force as Nate sat up a little straighter.

"What photos, Seeley?" his voice dropped an octave, and Brennan suppressed a shudder.

"The ones I had the image techs doctor up," he replied smugly. "I think I still have those somewhere," he added thoughtfully. Brennan was enjoying watching the two old friends banter back and forth, but she was mildly surprised when Nate stood up and grabbed Booth's shirt collar. Booth was still grinning, though, so Brennan fought the urge to protect her partner and simply watched the two males interact.

Booth scrambled from his chair, his shirt still in Nate's hands, and he placed his feet firmly on the ground.

"I want those pictures," he threatened, but there was no malice behind it. Nate was grinning just as widely as Booth; but where Booth's grin was disarming Nate's was menacing.

"You know, come to think of it, I can't really remember where I put them," he shot back. He put his hands on his friend's forearms and pushed back, but it was really no use. Nate had several inches and about a hundred pounds on him. Booth found himself in the air, hanging on for dear life. He shot Brennan a wink and a smile before swinging his right leg and hooking it around Nate's right knee. Reaching over, he grasped Nate's shirt front and leaned forward, effectively placing his right foot on the ground directly behind the larger man. Using leverage and a little muscle, he managed to topple the giant. Unfortunately, the giant failed to let go and Booth found himself toppling as well. Brennan couldn't help but laugh at their antics, realizing for the first time they acted more like bickering brothers than befriended ex-classmates.

"Nice move, Booth," she said, "but generally you want to avoid hitting the ground with your attacker." She leaned over and snagged a few of his fries from his platter as he picked himself up and dusted off, earning her a bemused glare. Both agents sat back down to their meals as if nothing were wrong and Brennan found herself laughing again. This started the other two laughing and soon the three of them were holding their sides and wiping tears from their eyes. When the laughter had subsided, Brennan took a deep breath.

"That was cathartic," she sighed, leaning back against the couch. Nate was once again back into the files and even Brennan had to admire his work ethic.

"The first death was more violent," he said aloud, "Probably his first kill. This second one though, the girl…" he pulled out a photo, "The knife wounds are more precise. But there are no knife wounds on the other two, the staged ones…why?" He seemed to be asking this question rhetorically, so Brennan did not answer. Truthfully, she had no answer; Booth was always better at jumping to conclusions and piecing things together. She was all about facts and right now all she knew was that four kids were dead and they were no closer to finding the guy who'd done it. By the look on his face, though, Brennan could tell Booth's mind was already reeling with possibilities.

"Say we narrow our search of delivery boys to ex-military," Booth interjected. "Can't be too many, right?" He pulled his cell out and made a call, waiting on the line while the information was cross-referenced. "You're kidding…that's great…thanks." He snapped his phone shut. "One guy…Darryl Mather. Spent almost a year in the Marines before they kicked him out. Guess what for?" he looked at his companions and gave a knowing smile. "Failing to obtain a high school diploma or equivalent. There's about a year gap between the time he quit at Chang's to his enlistment date, and the address we have for him is current."

"I'd say he's at least worth checking out…" Nate admitted, shutting the file.

"They're getting his information now and sending it to my cell. We'll call on Mr. Mather first thing in the morning. I'm assuming you want to tag along?" he shot a look at Brennan.

"Full participation, Agent Booth," she shot back, and they shared a smile that made Nate a little uncomfortable. "Look, it's getting late and there's not much else I can do without Zach and Hodgins."

"You kickin' us out?" Nate teased, but he stood and stretched. "It is getting late," he said, glancing at his watch. "Call me tomorrow, Seeley. If this is our guy, I need to do a lot more research."

"Thanks, Nate. I'll walk you out. Bones, you need a ride home?" Booth tossed his trash and shouldered his jacket.

"No, Booth," she rolled her eyes. "I drove here this morning, just like I do every morning."

"Fine, but I want to get an early start," he replied. "I'll pick you up at eight. You sure you don't want to me to stick around…walk you to your car?" he tried again, already knowing the answer.

"Go!" she pointed at the door as she shoved the agent with her other hand. He chuckled and readjusted his jacket.

"Good night, Bones."

"Good night, Dr. Brennan."

"Good night, boys," she responded, seeing them out the door before moving to shut the lab down for the night.

* * *

Booth may have seemed a little OOC here, but sometimes people get goofy around old friends. Not to mention there's more there that has yet to be explained. HAHA! I am evil...or not...guess you'll just have to wait to find out. Please let me know what you thought? I love hearing from my readers! 


	7. Chapter 7

Alrighty, here starts the action so hang on. Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far (and those who haven't). Oh, and I couldn't help the coffee reference...

This one goes to_ enchantedlight_,_ bb-4ever_, and _DemonSong10_ who have kept reading and reviewing. I love hearing from y'all. Thank you.

* * *

Brennan's alarm sounded at six-thirty and she groaned into her pillow. She hadn't really gone to sleep until the wee hours of the morning, so she figured one snooze wouldn't hurt. 

An hour later she bolted upright in bed and checked the clock, cursing silently as she dashed for the shower. In near record time she was showered and dressed – opting for light makeup today – and was just starting her first cup of coffee when Booth knocked on her door.

"It's open!" she called, wincing at the hot liquid scalded her tongue.

"Okay Bones, I know we've talked about this –" he started as he shut her door, but she held up her hand.

"Booth, I knew you were coming," she interrupted his usual tirade about being more safety conscious. "Let me finish this cup and we can go."

"Late start?" he asked, leaning against the counter top smugly. She nodded and took another big gulp. "Careful Bones!" he started forward with concern, but she waved him off. Two swallows later she deposited the mug into the sink, grabbed her bag, and followed her partner out the door.

"Look, when we get there I want you to stay back," he said as they drove down the highway.

"You know if –"

"You're not getting a gun, Bones," he shot her a smile; one that only grew when she pouted predictably. "Look, this guy is our only lead, and I have no idea what to expect. But this house we're going to? It's his mother's," he said knowingly. Brennan recalled Nate's observations on the latest clues.

_The next victim will probably be found at his childhood home, most likely in the same neighborhood where you found the first two victims._

She looked around and, unsurprisingly, recognized the area as being near the first two crime scenes. When they pulled up, neither saw a vehicle around and the place looked deserted. Brennan followed Booth cautiously up the door, fighting an eye roll as he held his non-gun hand out to keep her behind him. He knocked loudly on the door, looking around quickly for anyone running away from the house. Brennan peered in the windows and furrowed her brow.

Everything was covered in dust, as if someone hadn't lived there in a long time. The raised wooden porch creaked under their weight as if it hadn't held anyone in a while and Brennan subconsciously shifted her weight to the balls of her feet.

"Booth, no one's home," she whispered, gesturing at the windows. "Can we go in?"

"No, we don't have probable cause," he whispered back. "I'll see if I can get a warrant and –" Without warning, the porch collapsed completely, sending them down the four feet to the ground unceremoniously. Brennan was more prepared than Booth, so she hit the ground and tucked her knees up, absorbing the impact. But Booth hit hard and she heard the wind rush from him.

"You okay?" she stumbled over to him and helped him sit up in the debris. He was having trouble catching his breath, so she lifted his hands up over his head. "Take a deep breath, Booth," she commanded, and he did what she said. A few long breaths later, he stood up and assessed their surroundings. A large gaping hole yawned above them, letting in the morning sunlight. Brennan looked past Booth into the space beneath the house and gasped. His questioning gaze shot to her face and she pointed over his shoulder.

"Is that probable cause?" she said softly, and Booth turned slowly. He blinked and peered through the settling dust to where she was pointing. Lying curled in the fetal position was another body, another child. Booth pulled his flashlight out and crept closer, noting the large nest of rats swarming the body. But that wasn't the odd thing, he noted. The odd thing was the other figure, the skeleton sitting in a rocking chair overlooking the scene. The skull was pointed down at the body, as if watching, and Brennan's mind once again flashed back to the clues.

_Eyes of dearest_…

She looked around as she stepped up next to Booth, not having to stoop quite as much as he. "There," she said, pointing down, and he swung the beam over to the area she indicated. A jar lay on the ground with two small objects floating inside.

"Are those…" he trailed off, feeling his stomach flip once.

"Eyes," she said definitively. "The rats probably ate the other victim's eyes, so I would guess these belong to the skeleton. Female, elderly…sixties at least. Bone structure indicates several age-related degenerations, she probably stooped."

"Let's get out of here and call the CSU. They can get lights and ventilation in here."

"What about the rats?" she said indignantly. "They're compromising the remains." Booth sighed and pulled his gun, shooting a few and scattering the rest.

"There," he said, re-holstering his weapon and stowing the flashlight. He looked around for a way out, but the only light coming in was from the hole four feet above them. Thinking for a moment, he sighed. "Can you lift me?" he asked, and she looked at him incredulously. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing, I just thought that with your alpha male tendencies you would insist on lifting me out."

"And how would I get out? You'll pull me? This way, I can pull you out once I'm up." She nodded and braced herself with a wide stance, like she had learned in karate, then laced her fingers together. He put a hand on her shoulder and one foot in the cradle of her hands. "Ready?" he asked, and she nodded. At her count, she lifted with one big push and he jumped up, grabbing the edge. He scrambled a bit, but eventually he pulled himself out. Lying on his stomach, he reached down in the hole.

"I'm braced," he told her, "Just jump and I'll catch you." She bent her knees and swung her arms back, hoping to gain enough upward momentum. She jumped and grasped Booth's forearm, and felt his hand take a firm hold of hers. Swinging her other arm up, he grabbed that one too and proceeded to haul her up. Once she had a hold of the edge, he moved around and reached down for a leg, pulling her up the rest of the way. They lay on their backs side by side for a moment, taking deep breaths.

"You're heavy," he joked, earning him a playful slap on the shoulder. He chuckled and stood, reaching down to pull her to her feet. She hit him once more for good measure and watched him laugh and pull out his cell phone.

In less than thirty minutes the house was swarming with agents and techs. Brennan had gone back down the hole – this time with the aid of a ladder – and was directing the effort of securing both bodies for transport. Booth filed a phone report with Cullen, happy to finally have a name to go along with the grisly murders.

"I'll get Agent Michaels to run a full report on this guy," Cullen said. "Good work, Booth."

"Thank you, sir," he responded happily. He clicked his phone off and turned back to the house where they were cutting a hole in the side of the porch to make extraction easier. Once the hole was big enough, he watched as Brennan and five forensic techs loaded both bodies up into an ambulance. She looked around in confusion and he smiled to himself as he jogged to her side.

"There you are," she said, "I'm going back to the Jeffersonian with the remains. We need to get started right away."

"I need to stay around here, see if he left another clue." She nodded and climbed into the back of the ambulance, giving him a soft goodbye as he shut her in with the corpses. He watched it pull away before returning his thoughts to processing evidence and investigating the scene.

"Agent Booth," a younger agent called, and Booth made his way quickly over to the front of the house.

"Yes?"

"Uh…" his eyes darted inside. "There's a phone call for you inside," he thumbed backwards. Booth furrowed his brow and followed, knowing there was only one person who would be calling him here.

"Darryl," he said simply as he picked up the receiver.

"My, my, we are good aren't we?" the voice answered back. "And I thought it would take a little longer for you to find Mother. I left her company so she would not be lonely." Booth didn't say the words he was thinking; he knew not to get drawn into a game with a serial killer.

"What is it you want, Darryl?" he tried to sound calm, but his heart was racing, his mind going over all kinds of possibilities.

"Vengeance," he said simply. "They will feel my pain; everything that I have endured will be visited upon them."

"They're just children," he tried sympathy, but knew instantly it wouldn't work.

"So was I!" A few deep breaths, but then, "I'll tell you what, Agent. I will give you one chance to save this one." There was a pause on the other end before Booth heard a young girl whimpering. "I'm going to give you specific instructions; instructions you will not repeat to anyone. You will come alone and if I even suspect you've brought someone with you, I will kill her, I will not hesitate." Booth listened a few more minutes, his mouth set in grim determination. When he hung up, the few agents in the room leaned in closer.

"What'd he say, Booth?"

"Boasting," Booth answered without pausing, "Bastard was just boasting. I want this guy found!" he demanded, causing the other agents to scramble. With them effectively out of his way, he walked back to his SUV. He left a senior agent in charge and drove like a bat out of hell to the location the man had designated. His stomach growled in protest of missing lunch, but Booth ignored it. Once the girl was safe and this bastard was behind bars, then he could eat.

Darryl had said he couldn't bring anyone with him, but Booth knew going in completely alone was dumb. He keyed a text message into his phone and slipped it into his pocket, ready to hit the send button should anything go wrong. He stepped out of the SUV and pulled his weapon, heading for the small warehouse on the waterfront.

"Darryl?" he called, his sniper-trained senses taking in his surroundings and identifying possible threats. The door was partially open, and Booth could see the unconscious girl tied up in the center of the room. Booth knew the killer was lying in wait to ambush him, so he left the front door and crept around the back. He ducked in quickly and moved behind a pile of crates for cover. He could see the girl lying on the floor in front of him. He could make out the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, so he knew that for now she was safe.

He trained his ears to detect any sounds out of place, but there was nothing except the steady breathing of the girl. He strained a little, his hearing focusing in on a small hissing noise, and he silently cursed himself before he felt the effects of the invisible gas start to take over. His gun fumbled from his fingers, but he managed to shove his hand in his pocket and hit the send button on his phone. Deep chuckling was his only answer as he fought unconsciousness, his eyes rising to meet the mask-wearing face of Darryl Mather. He felt his eyelids droop and the last thing he saw was Darryl reach out for his weapon.

* * *

Well, well, well. Things are getting intense now. Let me know what you thought, and have a good holiday season. Everyone stay safe when you're out there shopping like crazy people! 


	8. Chapter 8

_Mendenbar_ - Thanks for the support...I had two Thanksgivings to survive and luckily I was smarter than the turkey.

_Song_ - Well, I'm creeping up in those ratings aren't I? Thank you and are you talking about _When it Matters_ because you need to update!

_enchantedlight_ - Well here you go.

**AN: **It occurs to me that I haven't disclaimed them in a while, so consider this me not owning them.

* * *

The chirp from her cell indicated she had just received a text message, but she was currently in the middle of a cursory examination, so Brennan ignored it.

"Zach, it looks like the damage on the skull is consistent with the other two," she said, pulling her assistant from his exam of the elderly woman. He peered down at the skull and nodded.

"I concur, Dr. Brennan. The wound appears to have been made with the same weapon."

"What about the woman?" she gestured to the other table.

"No anomalies, Dr. Brennan, other than the eyes. They were removed post-mortem, though. She died from natural causes." Brennan nodded and turned back to the boy.

"Get the tissue markers ready so Angela can identify the boy. It's probably a safe bet that this is Mrs. Mather," she indicated the elderly skeleton as Zach nodded and picked up the smaller skull from the second table. She pulled off her gloves and retrieved her cell from her pocket, intent on calling Booth, when she remembered the text message. She scrolled down and selected it, nearly dropping her phone in the process.

"Stupid," she whispered, and quickly dialed his number. When Booth didn't pick up, she cursed again and called Nate.

"Michaels," he answered, obviously very busy.

"It's Dr. Brennan, I think Booth's done something stupid," she said.

"Knowing Seeley…" he joked, but trailed off as he registered her tone. "Where is he?"

"I don't know, he didn't say. But the killer called the house while he was there and told him to meet him somewhere to save the next victim. But the message cuts out before it says where."

"Alright, don't panic. I'll call some techs and see if they can track down his cell signal. Don't leave the lab; I'll send some people over."

"If Booth's out there I should – "

"You should let more qualified people handle it. No offense Doc, and you're really good with bones, but this is my job. I'll take care of it. If he doesn't report in thirty minutes, we'll take action."

"Call me," she said, and he recognized the plea in her tone.

"Count on it, Doc," he said before hanging up. She took a deep breath, tried Booth's cell one more time, and hung up rather violently when it went straight to voicemail.

The next thirty minutes crawled by as she checked the clock every second. Angela identified the boy as Michael Yorse, missing since last week. As she entered her friend's office, Angela noted Brennan's worried expression.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Booth's missing," she said simply, causing the artist to collapse into the other chair. "He went after the killer, Angela, with no back up. Nate's got the FBI looking for him now, but I don't know if…"

"He'll be okay, Bren," she said, trying to convince herself as well. "He'll be –" She was cut off by a sharp knocking on her door. Brennan looked up and smiled at Nate.

"Come on, Doc," he said. "We're setting up a team to look for him; thought you'd want to be involved."

"We're coming," Angela said, leaving no room for argument. Brennan nodded and Angela scrambled to get Hodgins and Zach. Brennan watched as she told them what was happening and their reactions. Hodgins got his stuff together rather quickly, but Zach seemed confused. Angela said something else to him, gesticulating wildly with her hands, and he nodded before pulling his lab coat off.

"They're something else," Nate said from beside her. "Booth speaks highly of you guys," he continued, and Brennan shot him a disbelieving look. "Really, he does. I know he acts like a tough guy, and he is one, but he likes you guys more than he lets on. He stuck up for your young assistant there, once."

"Zach? Why would he have to –"

"Who you all are is no secret to anyone at the Bureau; you're all practically famous. I think some of the younger agents ran into Zach at one of the trials and, well…" Brennan nodded, knowing how distant and odd her assistant could seem to others. She admired it in him, his ability to solve problems rationally, his high intellect, and his unique knack with bones. She also knew, from personal experience, that those qualities can tend to alienate someone from their peers. She felt a twinge of anger at the thought of a couple of rookie agents poking fun at her assistant just because they didn't understand him.

"Booth took up for him?" Brennan asked, only a little shocked. Booth and Zach weren't the best of friends, but she knew Booth was very protective of anything that he thought fell under his purview – squints included.

"Not at the trial; I don't think he was there directly," Nate answered, grabbing her coat and helping her put it on. "But at the Bureau the next day? I heard they were on wire-tap duty for six months." Brennan took the tone to mean "wire-tap duty" was not pleasant, and the thought of Booth sticking up for her assistant just made her heart constrict a little more. _He's okay_, she told herself, unwilling to believe anything else. She joined the rest of her team and Nate led them out to an FBI standard-issue SUV. It was so similar to Booth's that Brennan's step faltered for a moment. Angela linked an arm through hers in support before they climbed in and drove off toward headquarters.

* * *

Booth woke up groggily at first, but the sensation of cold water lapping at his shins brought him to full alert. He tried to move, but found his torso completely immobilized. Looking around, he soon found out why, and he let out a frustrated growl. 

A large, course rope bound him and the girl with their backs to a post under a pier. The water was currently around their knees, but Booth had a sinking feeling that it wasn't going to stay that way.

"Ah, Agent Booth," a voice called from above him, and he looked up. Darryl stood there holding his jacket and holster. "So good of you to join us," he continued. "I realized as I was hauling your bodies out of the warehouse…why should I go to all the trouble of taking you back home? It's much easier to dispose of you this way. The rising tide adds a certain dramatic element, don't you think? Well, it would if anyone knew where you were." He held up Booth's phone. "Nice try, with the text message," he said sadly, "But unfortunately, the network is unable to relay your message at this time. I doubt your friend 'Bones' even got the first line. I warned you, Agent Booth, and now dear Kaitlyn will pay the consequences." He gestured at Booth, but Booth realized the man wasn't pointing at him. Looking to his right he inhaled sharply as he recognized the girl from the missing persons report three days ago. _At least she's alive_, he thought.

"Kaitlyn, can you hear me?" he asked softly, not surprised when she flinched as she woke up.

"Where are we?" she cried, looking around at the slowly rising water.

"I'm not sure, Kaitlyn," he answered, and her eyes drifted over to him.

"Who are you? Where is he?" she asked frantically, as if she were afraid Darryl would return any minute. The man's voice floated down from the pier above and Kaitlyn cowered back as best she could while tied to the wooden post.

"Dear Kaitlyn, this is where I leave you. Please give my best to Mother." And then he was gone. The girl shivered in combination of fear and cold, and Booth cursed silently.

"Kaitlyn, I need you to stay calm," he said, and she looked at him oddly – as if just realizing he was there.

"Who are you?" she asked again, and he offered her a small smile.

"My name is Seeley Booth," he said. "I'm a federal agent, FBI, and there are people looking for us." No matter what Darryl said, he had to believe Bones had gotten his message and assembled a strike force by now. He closed his eyes and sent a small prayer upward before looking back at the girl next to him.

"Kaitlyn, did he hurt you? Touch you?" She shook her head violently and thrashed a little.

"The rope hurts," she whimpered, and he nodded sympathetically.

"I know, just hold on. Someone's coming."

* * *

Thanks for reading and please review! I love hearing from everyone. I hope everyone stays safe this holiday season. 


	9. Chapter 9

Okay I have to say it. OH MY GOD! Last night's episode was to die for. God bless Caroline Julian...

* * *

Nate led them through the headquarters building down several hallways and into a room housing several agents bustling around. He walked over to an older man, probably in his late forties by Brennan's estimation, with close-cropped red hair and bright green eyes. He was leaner than most around him, but he commanded an air of authority that Brennan had to admire. Nate talked in low tones with him, and the man gestured to several agents over in the corner. After a few moments, Nate called them over and introduced everyone.

"Special Agent in Charge Kevin Donahue," he said, and the older man held out his hand. "This is Agent Booth's partner, Doctor Brennan, and her team from the Jeffersonian." Donahue shook Brennan's hand, but he bypassed the others as he whirled and demanded an update from the techs.

"He used his cell phone this morning to place a call to the Bureau," one answered.

"That was me, early this morning…about seven," Nate interjected.

"He sent a text message to Dr. Brennan approximately forty-two minutes ago," he continued. "Our best estimation from that is Maryland."

"The entire state?" Brennan shot back angrily, and the agent paled.

"Doctor," SAC Donahue warned, though he never looked away from the tech. "Is that all you can get?"

"It's off now, sir," he said, "So there's no way to know where he is."

"We have to assume Mather has him," Nate said, "And the only way to get another lead is to get the clues left behind at the other crime scene." Donahue nodded his agreement.

"Agents are scouring the place now," he said, "As soon as they have anything, they'll report in. You sure you can get something?" he directed the question at Agent Michaels.

"Of course," he answered, and Brennan heard the defensiveness in his tone. Nate shook his head slightly, as if sensing Brennan's confusion and asking her not to mention it. Donahue stepped away from them to converse with another agent, who Brennan assumed was his second in command, and she took the time to look around.

The room wasn't too large, perhaps a little bigger than the break room at the Jeffersonian. In the center was a large map of the greater D.C. area, to include the surrounding states. The four techs were lodged in the corner with computers and communications equipment, and they were all working furiously on different machines. The only other agents in the room, other than Donahue and his second, were two guards at the door and Michaels.

Brennan checked her watch, noting that in just over an hour the sun would go down, and she hoped they got something soon.

"What's taking the search at the house so long?" she whispered loudly, enough for her people and Michaels to hear. He turned to her and took a step closer, keeping their conversation private.

"There's a lot to cover," he told her, "Not to mention the house was a wreck. A few of our smaller agents are under the house, but it's a tight fit down there. They could go faster, but they might miss something…or worse, compromise the evidence." Brennan nodded, but her face was still set in a firm line. He reached out a large and squeezed her shoulder in comfort. "Seeley's strong," he told her, "he'll be fine. My only hope is that he was in time to stop Mather from killing his next victim."

"Do you still think it was the girl that went missing the other day?" she asked, recalling the missing child report Booth had received while they were in the alley.

"Most likely," Nate answered. "I just hope he's with her now." Brennan nodded, neither one saying what they were thinking.

_I hope he's alive_.

* * *

Booth shivered in the cold water cursing silently to himself as he watched the sun set. He guessed they had been there for about two hours now, and he was beginning to lose feeling in his extremities. The water was waist high now, but he still had hope. 

"Kaitlyn?" he forced his voice to be stronger than he felt.

"Yeah?" her teeth chattered and he could see her shivering. Booth shifted, wincing as the course rope cut into his side. He reached out one arm and put it around the girl, offering him some of his warmth. Her smaller body was easier to move through the constraint of the rope, so she shimmied over to him. Kaitlyn buried her head in his shoulder and tried to suppress another shiver. He pulled her in, wrapping his other arm around her, and ran them up and down her back. He was ironically grateful for the rope holding them against the pier so that he could give Kaitlyn as much body heat as he was able.

"We're going to get out of this," he told her. "By now, there are a ton of people looking for us."

"Seeley, the water's getting higher," she said, and he had to nod.

"I know, but we'll be outta here before it gets too high." He closed his eyes and sent up another prayer. _Lord, please don't make me a liar.

* * *

_

Brennan and Michaels stood over the large map, staring at it like it held the answer to the universe. Next to them SAC Donahue stood conversing with his field agents.

"Thanks Parkson," he hung up quickly and turned to the team. "They just finished sweeping the mother's house. They didn't find anything but they said Mather called the house not five minutes ago. He said 'They die with the tide.'"

_So much for the riddles, _Brennan thought with dismay. Nate searched the map methodically, his eyes seeking out every body of water associated with the ocean. He ran through the details in his head. _The first victim was found at the playground he grew up on, the second in the alley behind the restaurant he used to work at. The third was found under his mother's old house. _His eyes lit up and he scrambled around the table map to the largest body of water near D.C. – Chesapeake Bay.

"He was a Marine," he said definitively, garnering the attention of everyone in the room. "The other victims were found near places he had been previously, and in chronological order. After he worked for the restaurant, he went back home for a year, then he joined the Marines. Annapolis is home to the Marines' Officer Academy. They'll be near Annapolis, in the bay." Donahue was on the phone in an instant, scrambling his agents and coordinating the search. Brennan grabbed her coat and made to follow them out the door when Angela grabbed her arm.

"Where are you going? They can handle it," she said.

"I have to go, Angela," Brennan's face was a mix of emotions. "Booth would come for me." She pulled her arm from her friend's grasp and jogged out the door after the agents.

* * *

Will they reach Booth in time? Stay tuned to find out. Oh, and please review. You know, if anyone is still out there and not replaying last night's episode. 


	10. Chapter 10

Booth watched the sun disappear behind the horizon. The water was up to his chest, which meant Kaitlyn was almost completely submerged.

"Kaitlyn, we need to raise you up a little. I need you to shimmy against the rope while I lift you." She nodded shakily and he put his hands underneath her arms and lifted. She kicked her feet against the pier and he pulled as hard as he dared. The rope slipped a little and her saw her wince as it cut into her skin, the wound instantly coming in contact with the salty water.

Trying a different tactic, he wrapped her left arm completely around her and reached down into the water with his right. He pulled out on the rope with all his might while lifting her with his other arm. He even pushed his body away from the post, hoping to give her a little more space to squeeze out. His muscles strained with the effort but he ignored them. The water rose a little more and she went under, but Booth felt a surge of adrenaline pump through him and he let out a feral grunt as he lifted her up. She scrambled up through the surface shivering violently and Booth moved his arm to support her bottom as she caught her breath.

"My l-legs are st-still c-caught," she stuttered, and he fumbled blindly with the rope until her legs were free.

"Kaitlyn, stay above the water," he warned as she slipped a little.

"I'm tired Seeley," she said.

"I know, honey, but you have to stay awake. I'll help you, but you have to stay above the water. Do you understand?" She nodded and wrapped her arms around the post. The water raised a little and he tasted the bitter salt water.

"What about you?" her voice sounded panicked and he just smiled the smile that always seemed to calm Bones when she was upset.

"Don't worry about me, Kaitlyn," he spat out some water as it sloshed in his mouth. He adjusted his hold on her and lifted her a little more so he could tilt his head up. His arms were getting a little tired, but he ignored the discomfort by forcing himself to lift her a little higher.

Voices floated down to him, dozens of them, calling out their names. Kaitlyn didn't seem to hear them, so Booth forced his head above water and called out as loud as he could before the water covered him. Kaitlyn screamed his name and Booth saw beams of light pierce the water around them before he heard several splashes. His lungs hurt from the lack of oxygen but he lifted the girl a little more. He felt arms take her weight from him and a strong grip wrap around him. His body reacted on instinct and tried to take a breath, but he gagged as he felt the salty water sear its way into his lungs. He barely felt the tugs of his rescuer as he blacked out still under the water.

* * *

(Cringes) Okay, I know I'm gonna get reamed for this short a chapter, but I _promise_ I will not leave you guys hanging for long. I actually think _MyMia_ might kill me for the third cliffie in a row, but I had to risk it. This was just too good to post with another chapter. Good news for you guys is, short chapter equals quicker post, so expect the next chapter tomorrow. 


	11. Chapter 11

Okay, here's a long chapter to make up for the last one. Thank you for not killing me...no cliffhanger this time.

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Brennan was out of the SUV even before it had stopped completely. She saw several people helping to pull the girl from below the pier. She was crying hysterically, but she seemed otherwise unhurt. 

"Seeley!" Kaitlyn cried out, trying to twist around and see her savior. Brennan rushed past them to where she thought they were pulling him to safety as well. Her heart stopped as she saw Nate on the ladder, lifting her partner's unmoving body to the waiting arms of more agents on the pier.

"Booth!" she rushed over, but several agents blocked her path as a paramedic worked on him. She managed to work her way around them with a few sweeping moves and plenty of yelling. She fell to her knees above his head as the paramedic pumped on his chest.

"Bag!" he called out, and the other man pumped the air into his lungs.

"Come on, Booth," she whispered, brushing his short hair back from his forehead. Nate stood behind her wrapped in a towel, talking quietly with one of his drier counterparts.

"He was holding her up," he told the other man. "Even underwater he was holding her up. He saved her life." Brennan let out a combination laugh and sob as Booth's body shuddered violently. They quickly rolled him onto his side as he coughed and water poured from his lungs. After several agonizing seconds, he rolled onto his back and took a shaky breath, shivering in the cold air.

"We got him, get a stretcher and blankets!" The paramedic who had been pumping on Booth's chest jumped up and sprinted back to the ambulance to pull the gurney out. Brennan placed her hands on either side of his head, using her thumbs to wipe away the salt water from his face. She smiled as his eyes opened, her heart racing as his gaze locked with hers. She could make out the beginnings of a smile on his upside-down face, and he took another shuddering breath.

"Bones? The girl?" he asked quickly.

"She's fine," Brennan said quietly, "You kept her above the water, Booth. She's cold and scared, but she's okay." He closed his eyes then, taking a deeper breath. When he didn't open them again, she glanced up at the paramedic worriedly.

"He's fine," he reassured her. "His body's just exhausted." She backed up as they lifted him onto the stretcher and followed them to the ambulance. They made to argue as she climbed in with him, but the fierce look on her face kept them quiet. She studied her partner's face the entire way to the hospital, his hand held firmly in her own. As her body began to come down from her adrenaline high, she felt tears sting her eyes. She could have lost him today, but here he was.

They reached Anne Arundel Medical Center moments later and Brennan was pushed out of the way as nurses worked over him. She sat in the waiting room forever as they pumped the remaining water from his lungs and hooked him up to different monitors. She filled out as much of the paperwork as she could, listing herself as the emergency contact. She called Angela, letting her know what had happened.

"He…" she trailed off as she tried to describe what had happened when she arrived. "He kept the girl above the water, even while completely submerged. He took a lot of water into his lungs, and he wasn't breathing when I got there."

"Sweetie, he's alright now," Angela tried to comfort her obviously distraught friend. "Why don't you get a cab and go home. Get a shower and something to eat. I'll get the boys and we'll come pick you up and take you back up there." Brennan looked back at the Trauma Room doors and sighed.

"Alright, but we're in Annapolis. It'll take me thirty minutes to get home, another ten to shower and eat."

"We'll pick you up in an hour," Angela said firmly before hanging up. Brennan realized she couldn't argue with the dial tone and put her cell phone back into her jacket. As she walked toward the exit, her phone beeped again, indicating a text message. She pulled it back out and furrowed her brow as she read the message. Suddenly, her eyebrows shot up and she quickly dialed Cullen's phone.

"Cullen," he answered.

"It's Dr. Brennan," she said, "Booth's phone just came back on. Just sent me a text message; the same one he tried to send earlier. I'd guess his phone's set to resend incomplete messages."

"We can track where that phone is now," Cullen said. "Thank you, Dr. Brennan." And he hung up. Brennan pocketed the phone again and sighed deeply. Hopefully this would all be over in a few hours.

She told the desk nurse that she would be back in an hour and to call her if anything changed. As she made her way toward the exit, she saw Nate waiting in the lounge and moved over to him.

"Booth's phone resent the message to me," she said, "Cullen's got the techs tracking it now. I'm going to go home for a few minutes, get a change of clothes and a shower. I'll be back in an hour and a half. Do you need anything?" She had grown fond of the man in the short time she'd known him; he cared about people like Booth did. It was easy to see why the two men were friends. He shook his head, but his eyes never left the trauma room doors. She squeezed his forearm in support before stepping out to hail a taxi.

Her eyelids felt heavy as she watched the scenery roll by. After what seemed like hours the cab pulled up to her home and she paid the driver quickly before walking briskly to her door.

The hot water cascaded down her body and only here did she let her tears fall. His heart had stopped, he wasn't breathing; if they had been any later he'd be dead now. She couldn't get the image of his motionless body lying on the pier out of her head. A pounding on her front door pulled her from her thoughts and she quickly shut off the water and dried off, throwing her robe on.

Angela stood at the door flanked by Hodgins and Zach. Temperance was pulled into a fierce hug by her friend as the two men stood awkwardly in the hallway.

"Come in," she said, stepping back and allowing them in. "I'll be just a second; I need to throw some clothes on." She left them in her sitting room as she rushed back to her bedroom and threw on a pair of jeans and dark blue Jeffersonian sweatshirt. Grabbing a scrunchie from her nightstand she hastily pulled her hair into a ponytail before grabbing her keys and phone. Mere moments after leaving her guests in her living room she blew past them toward the door.

"Let's go," she ordered, and they all jumped from their positions on the furniture.

"Wait, sweetie," Angela called and Brennan paused with her hand mere inches from the doorknob. She turned back ready to explain to Angela why she needed to be there when Booth woke up only to find the artist rummaging through her kitchen cupboards

"Angela?" she questioned. Her friend emerged with a box of graham crackers, a couple of bags of chips, and a six pack of cola. She tossed them into the massive bag that she swore was her purse (not a black hole) and joined the trio by the door.

"Just gathering essentials for an all-nighter," she told them. "Hospital food is usually horrible." A genuine smile crossed Brennan's face as she locked the door behind them. She automatically led them to the parking garage only to stop abruptly at the door.

"I left my car at the Jeffersonian," she said dejectedly.

"That's okay," Hodgins said, "I drove." The gleam in his eyes was troubling as he led them to his car.

"What is that?" Brennan asked as she eyed the small red vehicle.

"That," Hodgins pointed, "is an original Cooper. It's European."

"I'd guessed from the placement of the steering column," she replied. "It looks unsafe."

"Just get in," Angela said finally, shoving Brennan into the back before climbing in beside her. Zach sat awkwardly on the left side of the car as Hodgins started the engine and drove off toward Annapolis.

She walked back into the waiting room to find Nate still in the same chair. She took the seat next to him and laid a hand on his forearm.

"Any word?" she asked softly, and he shook his head. They sat in silence for a few more minutes until Brennan took a deep breath and caught his stare. "Thank you," she said quickly. "For saving him, I mean," she said. He offered her a small smile in return and moved his hand over hers to offer some comfort in return.

"He saved my life, once," Nate said after a few moments. When Brennan didn't say anything, he took that as invitation to continue. "It was our first real assignment, we were still recruits. But they needed us, so the top trainees were given temporary badges and assigned to the SAC." Brennan found herself only mildly surprised that Booth was top in his class; he was one of the best agents she had ever seen. She tuned back in as she realized Nate was still talking. "We were on two man teams, and I was the designated leader. We were supposed to approach the scene from the rear, but Seeley pipes in with one of his gut feelings." Brennan let out a small laugh, and Nate returned the smile. "I see you're familiar."

"Very," she shook her head, allowing him to continue.

"Anyway, he puts up this big fuss, saying the perps probably had the rear trapped, but I didn't listen. The man was a Ranger, for Christ's sake. Why didn't I listen?" he still seemed a little upset, but Brennan attributed that to their current situation. Nate took a breath and kept talking. "We walked a few more yards when I felt something on my shin. I looked down and realized I had walked right into a trip wire. An alarm sounded and the shooting started. Seeley dragged me down with him and rolled away, searching for the source. We got back up and took up defensive positions, and he was in his element. He was so calm, collected…probably from his Army days." Brennan nodded again. "I'm not even sure how he…one of the guys had come out to investigate and stepped on a branch. The alarm was still ringing, so I have no idea how he heard. He damn near tackled me and shot as we fell, hitting the guy right between the eyes." Brennan clenched her jaw, remembering all too well how good of a shot Booth really was. The image of Farid Masruk lying on the floor of the Hamilton Cultural Center flashed through her mind, and she gave a small shiver.

"He got a medal," Nate finished his story, "When we graduated." Brennan nodded and realized his large hand was still covering hers; but he seemed to be drawing strength from her rather than offering comfort. "I didn't keep in touch like I should have," he said sadly. "I got sent to Chicago, and he was here. But I should have called more often. We saw each other every now and then," he told her, "He even flew out to Chicago once for a case. We talked on the phone every now and then. He called me before Parker was born," he smiled a little, "Said he wanted me there. So I came. You know what he did?" Brennan shook her head slowly. "He named me Parker's godfather. We hadn't spoken in months, hadn't seen each other in a year, and I'm the man's choice for godfather. After that I called every week, talked to Rebecca sometimes, just to check in. Gradually, it became once a month, but I never missed a birthday. I'm an only child, see, so I don't have nieces and nephews to dote on," he chuckled. "Oh God," he said suddenly, "Someone should call Rebecca."

"Booth's fine," she told him, "He'll be back to his annoying self in a few days. We shouldn't worry her."

"She should still know," Nate said, standing. "I'll call…I haven't spoken to her in a while anyway." The space next to her seemed larger without him beside her, and she leaned back in her seat. She noticed Angela and the others had sat a few seats away, so she moved over to them. Angela was munching away on graham crackers while Zach flipped through a magazine. Jack seemed wrapped up in whatever news show was on the television so Brennan just sat back in the uncomfortable chairs and waited. Nate returned a few moments later with his jacket on and keys in hand.

"I'm going to get Parker," he said. "This is Seeley's weekend, and Rebecca's going out of town. She shouldn't have to cancel her plans, so I told her I'd watch him until Seeley gets released. I'll be back. If he…" Nate trailed off and motioned toward the front desk.

"I'll call you," she promised, and he was gone. As soon as he was out the door a doctor emerged from the Trauma Room and moved over.

"Seeley Booth?" he called, and both Brennan and Angela jumped to their feet.

"Yes," Brennan moved over to him while Angela grabbed the boys.

"He'll be fine," the doctor started. And though Brennan had known rationally that he was fine, hearing the doctor say the words lifted a weight from her chest. "He took in a lot of water, but mainly he's just fatigued. He was mildly hypothermic from the water, causing even more exhaustion. He'll sleep it off and we can release him tomorrow. He'll be physically weaker for a day or so, he may have trouble lifting things. The muscles in his arms showed evidence of great physical exertion." Brennan nodded, remembering how he'd held the girl above water while he himself was drowning.

"How's the girl…Kaitlyn?" she asked, recalling the name on the report.

"Her parents have been contacted," the doctor confirmed, "I can't really share too much, but she's fine, other than being a little cold and very tired." Brennan nodded again.

"When can we see him?"

"He needs to rest," the doctor said and continued before the woman could interrupt. "However, I will allow you in to see him briefly, but only for a short time." Angela put her hand on Brennan's shoulder and pushed slightly. Brennan shot her friend a thankful smile and followed the doctor to room 142. He had an IV giving him fluids and he was covered in multiple blankets. His face was paler than usual, but he was otherwise healthy.

"Only a few minutes," he warned, and left them alone. She moved forward and sat in the chair next to his bed, suddenly unsure of what to do. He looked infinitely better than the last time they had been in this same situation. She reached out and squeezed his hand, only a little disappointed when he didn't squeeze back. _The doctor said he'd be asleep for a while_, she told herself. She resisted the urge to look at his chart and simply stared at his face.

Sitting there, Brennan didn't know whether or not she should try talking to him. She knew he wasn't in a coma, but he was sleeping deeply. Even if he could hear her, it was doubtful his brain could do anything with the information. She tried to imagine what he would do if their positions were switched, and she didn't have to think long; he would talk to her. She scooted forward a little and readjusted her grip on his hand.

"Booth…" she trailed off and frowned. "Seeley…" she tried again, but shook her head once more. "Nate went to go get Parker," she tried starting with some facts, hoping to get her tongue untwisted. "I didn't know you made him Parker's godfather. But I guess we don't talk about stuff like that." It sounded lame to her own ears, but she continued anyway. "The others are here, too," she said, "But the doctor made them wait outside. He said I don't have a lot of time. Kaitlyn's fine, Booth, you saved her life. She's cold and tired, but her parents are on their way." She thought about what else he would be happy to hear about and nodded absently to herself. "Mather got sloppy, Booth," she said. "He turned your phone back on and your last incomplete text message resent itself. The FBI is tracking him down now," she said. "He'll be behind bars in a matter of hours." The door opened and the doctor stuck his head in.

"Miss…Agent Booth needs his rest," he said quietly, and she stood up. After only a second's hesitation, she channeled Booth once more and leaned over to place a quick kiss on his forehead.

"Get some rest," she told him. "I'll be outside." As she came back to the waiting room, Angela grilled her about Booth's condition. After being reassured he was fine, she sighed in relief and sank back down into the chair.

"You don't have to stay, you know," she told them. "I'm sure your beds are more comfortable than these chairs."

"Are you leaving?" Angela offered.

"No, I'm staying," she answered definitively.

"Then we're staying." Brennan just smiled, thankful to have such wonderful friends. She grabbed a magazine from near Zach and flipped through it, not really comprehending. Just as she remembered to call Nate about Booth's condition, the doors opened.

"Dr. Brennan," she heard Nate calling her from across the room, and she looked up and smiled. Nate was holding Parker in one arm, looking completely comfortable but very odd. The boy was small – he was only five after all – but he looked even smaller compared to Nate. As he approached them, Brennan stood and offered Parker a small smile. Nate set him on the ground, but Parker clung to his leg.

"Hey Parker," she tried, wondering if the boy even remembered her from Christmas. Nate nudged the boy forward.

"Parker, this is Dr. Brennan," Nate introduced, and she saw recognition flash in the boy's eyes, but he stayed close to Nate.

"Daddy says you're his partner," Parker said.

"That's right," Brennan answered, moving to kneel in front of the boy as she spoke.

"Is Daddy okay?"

"He sure is," she smiled. "He's sleeping now."

"Can I see him?"

"I don't think so, buddy," Nate interjected. "We just stopped by to check in, then we're going back to my place."

"No! I want Daddy!" he yelled, gaining the attention of nearby patrons. Brennan reached out instinctively and squeezed the boy's shoulder. She had dealt with many scared children during her time in the foster system. Being one of the older kids usually meant she was responsible for calming down her fair share of frightened children.

"Parker, you're Daddy's sleeping right now and we can't wake him up. If we do, it will take him longer to get better. You should go with Nate and get some rest. I promise you can see him tomorrow." She looked into the brown eyes so like Booth's and saw trust in them.

"Promise?" He held out his pinky finger and she looked at it curiously. Nate chuckled and leaned down.

"He wants you to pinky swear," he explained, but that just made Brennan more confused.

"I don't know what that means," she told him, and Parker laughed.

"Daddy said you knew everything! Look, you just take your pinky," he grabbed her hand and pulled her pinky out. "Then you wrap it around mine," again he demonstrated. "Then you promise."

"Well then," she smiled at the boy and tightened her hold on his pinky. "I promise you will see your dad tomorrow. But you have to go with Nate tonight. Promise?" she still held onto his pinky, and was rewarded when his face split into a grin so much like his father's.

"I promise I'll be good." He pumped their hands up and down a few times then let go, moving to stand beside Nate again. Brennan got to her feet, completely ignoring Angela's goofy grin. She said goodbye to Parker and Nate as they walked away, smiling and waving back as Parker turned and lifted his hand up.

"That was the cutest thing ever, and_ I_ have a picture," Angela declared. Brennan whirled around and was presented with a well-timed phone photo of her and Parker pinky swearing. He had a huge smile on his face and she was smiling back, and just past the phone Angela was beaming.

"Ange…" she sighed, but trailed off when she realized there was nothing she could do. Running her hands through her hair, she paced a little before turning back to her team. "It's almost ten," she said, not really knowing where to go with that statement.

"I already told you, Bren," Angela cut her off. "You're staying, so we're staying. We like him too, you know," she smiled, earning a small one in return. Brennan nodded, looking at her team in appreciation, knowing Booth would feel touched that they were here.

"I'm exhausted," she said finally, and Angela plopped down in a chair beside Hodgins. Brennan took one opposite her and laid her head back against the wall. Within moments, images of Booth's lifeless body faded from her mind as she drifted off into a fitful sleep.

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Alright, we're nearing the end. So what do you think? I just had to get Parker in here somewhere - he's the cutest thing ever. I wish there was more of him on the show. His "Merry Christmas Bones!" was enough to make me squeal. What can I say, I'm a sucker for cute and adorable. 


	12. Chapter 12

We're on the home stretch now! Just one more chapter after this. Pretty much just fluff abounds now, with just a _slight_ hint of angst. Oh and long chapters for all my wonderful readers as a thank you.

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Booth opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the harsh hospital lighting. He took a deep breath and immediately regretted the action as his lungs and throat burned. He tried to lift his hands to his neck, but only his left complied. His right arm was hooked to an IV and he shuddered at the sensation of the needle underneath his skin. Looking around he noted that it was dark outside, and the clock confirmed the very early hour.

_Kaitlyn!_ He tried to sit up but his body wouldn't respond to his commands. _Take it easy, Seeley_, he warned himself. _Don't do too much too soon_. His mind raced over his memories, trying to remembering if the girl had been okay. He vaguely recalled Bones being at the pier and deep pressure in his chest as she told him the girl was okay.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and reached his left hand up for the call button. He pressed it twice then let his arm drop, tired from the effort.

When the buzz sounded, Nurse Jacobe quickly set her clipboard down and rushed to room 142. The man, an FBI agent if she remembered correctly, was attempting to sit up and look around.

"Welcome back," she said sweetly, earning her a mocking glare.

"What day is it?" he asked, wincing at the cliché.

"Relax, you were brought in last night; you've only been out a little less than twelve hours." She checked his vitals and his respiration. "We cleared the water from your lungs, but you'll still probably have trouble breathing occasionally over the next few days. Your muscles were fatigued as well, so don't try to lift anything heavy."

"When can I get out of here?"

"Let's rest a little more today, shall we? Your doctor will be in at noon. If you're doing well enough, he may release you to bed rest," she smiled again.

"Kaitlyn…how's the girl? She would have been brought in with me."

"Oh, she was fine. Just a little cold and very tired. Her parents came and got her a few hours ago. I'm sure they'll be contacting you personally to thank you for saving their daughter." Booth waved her away, trying to sit up. She noted his forlorn look as he took in the empty room and decided to put him out of his misery. "You have several guests that simply won't leave our waiting area. Shall I send them in?"

"Please," he said, offering her a very charming smile. She laughed at him and walked briskly to the waiting area where the four friends were sleeping uncomfortably.

"Um, excuse me," she said, reaching out for the nearest person. The woman started suddenly, jumping to her feet in what looked like a defensive posture. She relaxed immediately and the nurse made a note not to startle her again.

"Yes?" the woman sounded very upset at having been woken up at four thirty in the morning.

"Just thought you should know Agent Booth is awake and asking to see all of you," she said before walking away. She didn't miss the relieved smile that passed over the woman's face.

Brennan turned to her friends and shook them awake, telling them to come to Booth's room when they got up. Angela waved her off and began trying to rouse Hodgins, who seemed keen on using Angela's torso as a body pillow.

Brennan nearly ran into the room but checked herself as she neared the door. When she opened it she smiled at him sitting up in bed like nothing was wrong.

"We have to stop meeting like this," she teased, earning her a one-of-a-kind Booth smile.

"Bones, you look like hell," he returned, and she slapped him lightly on the shoulder as she took a seat on his bed.

"The others are getting up. It seems Hodgins is a very deep sleeper, and apparently very clingy," she noted with an amused smirk. Booth chuckled as the others shuffled in; Zach seemed still asleep as he collapsed into the nearest chair. Hodgins was awake, but his face was flushed crimson as Angela smiled teasingly at him.

"Hey guys," Booth greeted, and Angela moved forward to hug him. Brennan felt a little awkward at not having done that as well, though she made no move to correct herself.

"You're looking good," Angela said.

"Yeah, just think," he kidded, "Less than twelve hours ago, I was dead." His face sobered as he heard Brennan's breath hitch, and Angela seemed to have noticed as well. Quickly, she ushered the boys back out the door, trailing Hodgins and practically pulling a sleeping Zach.

"Hey," he called softly to his partner, who refused to look him in the eye. "I'm still breathing," he said. He chewed his bottom lip as he contemplated his next move. He remembered what it had felt like walking into that emergency room in New Orleans, seeing his partner so badly bruised and beaten. Reaching out a hand, he grabbed her forearm and tugged gently. It was all the encouragement she needed to lean forward and wrap her arms around his shoulders. He buried his face in her hair and tightened his hold, thankful to be here in this moment. She didn't cry openly, but he felt her tears soaking his gown and he held her until he felt her pulling away.

"I'm glad you're okay," she told him a little awkwardly after she'd wiped her face.

"Me too," he agreed. "But I hate hospitals." She gave a genuine laugh and Booth had to join her. She stood up and stretched, checking the time.

"You should get more rest; maybe they'll let you out today. I have to check in with Dr. Goodman and call Nate later."

"Where is he?" Booth asked, unable to completely hide the disappointment.

"With your son," she told him. "Rebecca had plans this weekend, since it's yours with him, and Nate took him for the night so she didn't have to cancel."

"That's great," Booth said. "They can come pick me up later, when the doc releases me."

"Which is going to be never if you don't rest," she chided, but laughed when he stuck his tongue out at her. "I swear Parker is the more mature one," she smiled and shook her head, offering him a small wave as she shut the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, he felt the exhaustion descending on him again and he drifted off still partially sitting up in bed.

"Shh…Daddy's sleeping," a young voice pulled him from sleep and he hid a smile. Parker was standing next to the bed, judging by the location of the voice. Quickly he snaked out an arm and wrapped it around the boy, pulling him up onto the bed. Parker let out a squeal and Nate let out a deep chuckle at the scene. Soon they settled and Booth tucked his son beside him, holding him tight.

"Daddy, Uncle Nate says you gotta stay here. Why?" Booth paused, knowing he couldn't tell his son he had almost died.

"Actually, Daddy's probably getting out today. We'll all go get ice cream, okay?"

"Yay! Daddy, I was good, just like I promised."

"Who did you promise, bub?" he said, brushing the boy's hair from his forehead.

"Doctor Brennan," he said proudly. "We pinky sweared, Daddy. She didn't know how, but I teached her."

"Taught," he corrected softly, smiling at the image of his son teaching Bones how to pinky swear. Nate moved to the door and opened it, speaking quietly to whoever was on the other side. He moved back and Bones entered, offering Booth a smile.

"Hey Parker," she called, "Let's go to the gift shop. You can pick something out for your dad." Booth smiled at her attempt to connect with Parker; he knew she was sometimes uncomfortable with kids. Parker, however, didn't seem to notice her apprehension as he bounded off the bed and nearly pulled her out the door. As it shut behind them, Nate turned to Booth.

"Seeley, they got him," he said without preamble. "Tracked your cell to his location. But he didn't go quietly." Nate looked down and took a deep breath. "Agent Sanders…" he trailed off and Booth closed his eyes, knowing the rest. Sanders had been a good agent; he'd led the team that went in for Brennan when she'd been taken by Kenton. He briefly wondered if Bones knew, but was more interested in the whereabouts of Mather. He voiced his concern and Nate shook his head.

"He didn't make it either," Nate answered. "Probably good thing though," he continued grimly, "since DC doesn't have the death penalty." Booth couldn't help but agree, though he felt a little guilty. A death was nothing to celebrate.

"So we'll never know," Booth said quietly. "Those first two victims – why did he kill them?"

"There are any number of reasons," Nate answered just as softly, moving to his side. "The most likely scenario is he was practicing, trying to perfect his method of killing to suit his purpose. Or it could be that those kids were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one can say now." The door opened again and this time his room was invaded by not only Brennan and his son but the entire squint squad bearing what looked like a pizza hidden between them.

"How in the world did you get that in here?" he asked, his stomach already grumbling. Hodgins' face shifted to one of remorse as he answered.

"Well, we, uh…we used your son as a diversion," he answered sheepishly, and Angela continued.

"He's adorable, Booth, and a really good nurse-distractor."

"I had nothing to do with it," Brennan added quickly, but Booth didn't seem to be mad as they laid the pizza box on his bed. Parker climbed up and sat in his father's lap as the rest of them pulled up seats around them. They all devoured the large pepperoni pizza quickly, and Booth had to laugh as Brennan picked hers off and tossed them back into the box, leaving just the sauce.

"Dr. Brennan, you're not gonna eat the pepp'roni?" Parker asked in disbelief.

"No Parker," she chuckled, "they're all yours." The boy cheered and piled the extra pepperoni on his pizza, causing the adults to laugh at his antics. Suddenly, they heard movement at the door and Hodgins grabbed the box quickly and tossed it into the adjoining bathroom while the rest of them chewed quickly or stopped completely and hid their slices. Parker had a big smear of sauce on his face and he pouted as Brennan grabbed his piece of pizza and wiped his face with her thumb all in one motion.

"Shh, Parker…it's a secret, remember?" she told him as she hid the slice away. He shut his mouth promptly and tried to look as innocent as possible, which only made the nurse who entered more suspicious.

"What's going on in here?" she asked with amusement.

"We're just talking with Daddy and _not_ eating pizza," Parker answered earnestly.

"Not eating pizza? Well that's good because no outside food is allowed in the hospital rooms," she answered, lifting the boy from the bed to the floor. Before she turned to check Booth's vitals, she smiled and looked at the others. "Also, you'd be surprised how well the smell of pizza travels in a ventilated ward like this," she told them.

"Busted," Booth whispered at Hodgins, who just glared back at him. "When can I leave?" he asked the nurse.

"Oh, I'd say anytime," she said. "I'm going to unhook your IV, so you may feel a slight discomfort." She pulled a gauze pad from her kit and held it over the area as she grasped the needle. "Deep breath, Seeley," she told him. "Now let it out." He did and she pulled the large needle out as he exhaled, causing his body to tense at the sensation. She pressed the gauze over the area to staunch the blood flow as she checked his respiration and heart.

"Am I gonna live?" he joked, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"I think you're chances are good," she shot back. "Hold this," he put his hand over the gauze as she pulled the sensors from underneath his gown and shut off the machines that then beeped incessantly. "You're clothes are there," she gestured to small cabinet next to the TV. "We dried them for you. You can get dressed while I go get your discharge paperwork." He nodded and sat up a little before realizing that the back to his gown was, well, non-existent.

"Listen guys I appreciate you coming and all, but…" he shooed them with a hand motion and Angela just laughed.

"I get the picture, come on," she pushed Hodgins and Zach out before doing the same to Nate. "Come on Bren," she ushered, and Brennan nodded as Angela exited. When the door shut, she bent down and retrieved a bag from the floor.

"Here," she said, tossing the bag onto his bed, "You left this over at my place after…well after the last time you were in a hospital," she finished, and Booth remembered his last stay had been a bit more painful.

"I was wondering where that had gotten to," he admitted. "Thanks." She nodded and left the room, leaving him to change. He unzipped the bag and pulled out his favorite pair of jeans and an old vintage Rolling Stones t-shirt. He pulled the suit he had been wearing earlier from the cabinet and stuffed it into the bag - he hoped the dry cleaners could salvage it. He changed quickly and noted that his strength was somewhat sapped. He tied his sneakers quickly and washed his paler-than-usual face. He ran his damp hands through his hair to spike it up a little, making him look a little less like death warmed over. The door opened as Nurse Jacobe came back in with a clipboard.

"Well, Mr. Booth, if you'll just sign here, you're all set. Just remember my instructions and take it easy for a few days. You should call your boss and tell him you'll be down a couple of days, but you should be fully recovered by Monday." He signed his name quickly and shouldered the bag, offering her a smile.

"Thank you for everything," he said, and she waved him away.

"That boy of yours has your smile," she said, "And he uses it much the same way," she chided lightly. "You're lucky to have such good friends," she told him seriously. "They refused to leave all night; even slept in those really uncomfortable chairs."

"Yeah, they're like my family," he agreed quickly, but even as he said it he couldn't believe it was actually true. He had come to care for the squints as more than just acquaintances. They were his friends, and he knew he was lucky to have them in his life. He thanked her one more time and bid her goodbye as he walked out of the room and to the front desk. He signed one more form before joining his friends by the door.

"Ice cream!" Parker yelled, obviously not forgetting his father's earlier promise. He raised his arms to be lifted by his dad, but Brennan stepped in as Booth fought for what to say.

"Parker, do you remember what we talked about earlier?" she asked, and Parker dropped his arms and nodded.

"You said Daddy wasn't gonna be really strong for a few days," he answered, "And that I should be a big boy and do things myself!" he remembered and settled for taking his father's hand as they made their way to the parking lot. Booth smiled at his partner over Parker's head and mouthed "thank you." She flushed a little as she smiled back, mouthing "your welcome."

"Seeley, Parker, and Dr. Brennan can ride with me," Nate offered, gesturing to an SUV that looked suspiciously like Booth's. "We're headed to the Marble Slab, so we'll meet you there." Hodgins nodded as Angela and Zach followed him to his car.

"Hey that's my car!" Booth said indignantly, holding his hand out for the keys.

"No way," Nate said. "You're in no condition to drive. You get to sit in the back with your son."

"In the back!" he shouted. "I don't think so." He was about to protest more when he felt Parker's tug. Looking down into his son's pleading eyes he caved, settling onto the bench next to the boy's booster seat. Brennan climbed into the passenger seat and Booth leaned forward to tap her on the shoulder. When she turned to look at him, he gestured at Nate getting into the driver's seat.

"How come you don't complain when _he_ drives?" he asked. She just laughed and shook her head at him, leaving him unanswered. Booth sat back and watched the scenery roll by, taking in the sights of the city. He didn't get to Annapolis much, and he was thankful as they neared more familiar territory. Parker's favorite ice cream shop was just a stone's throw from his apartment, and – despite having just been released – he already couldn't wait to get home and rest. But who was he to deny a four year old ice cream?

* * *

Because that's not safe...seriously, I've done it before and it's not a pretty sight. 

Just one to go. Please review and let me know what you thought.

**Author's Note**: Okay, so I've got the idea for my next story, it just needs a LOT of work. So now's your chance to tell me what you'd rather have. A) a story I've already completely written and post regularly at expected intervals - in which case it will take me a while to write it **or**B) a story in progress with absolutely random updates as I finish chapters - meaning varying times between them but it would start probably around the new year, maybe sooner. Please let me know. Oh, and if anyone's read _Mooncalled_ by Patricia Briggs, let me know. I'd love to discuss a few things with you.


	13. Chapter 13

Well, this is the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who stuck by it and me. This one's for _Elliesmeow_ and _bb-4ever_ who asked an important question. And, for the last time (this fic anyway), I don't own them. And if you love Parker as much as I do, go check out my collection of Parker one-shots: _A Day with Parker_.

* * *

Booth led the trio of people behind him into his apartment. Parker, who had gotten more chocolate ice cream on his shirt than in his mouth, scrambled through the living room to the bathroom. 

"Wash your face, Parker," Booth called. "You two want a drink?" he asked Brennan and Nate as they made themselves comfortable on his couch.

"Beer," they said simultaneously. Nate chuckled and Brennan stood up and followed Booth into the kitchen.

"Booth, let me get that. You should be resting," she warned.

"I think I can handle un-capping three beers," he teased, but handed her one unopened one anyway. They stood in silence for a few minutes sipping their drinks before they heard Nate calling from the other room.

"Hey! Am I gonna have to come get it?" Booth smirked and led Brennan back out to his friend, handing the bottle across the table before settling down in his chair. Brennan perched on the edge of the sofa closest the chair as they heard the toilet flush and the water start running. Seconds later, Parker raced back out covered in water and chocolate. Booth silenced his friends' snickers with a look and set his beer on the table.

"Parker that was a good try on the clean up, bub, but let's go change that shirt." He lifted the boy into his arms, hiding a wince as he did so. The nurse hadn't been kidding about his muscle fatigue; the boy seemed a lot heavier than the last time he'd lifted him. Intending on saving face at least in front of his son, he ruffled the boy's hair.

"You must have grown quite a bit, Parker," he joked, "Daddy almost can't lift you."

"Nuh uh," Parker protested. "You're the strongest man in the world, Daddy." Booth smiled softly at his son as he let the boy stand on the bed as he pulled a set of superman pajamas, complete with cape.

"Now we can fight crime together!" he crooned, jumping from the bed in a near perfect imitation of Superman's takeoff. Booth tossed the dirty clothes in the hamper and followed "Superman" out to the living room.

"Daddy! Can Dr. Brennan be on our team to fight crime? And Uncle Nate?" Parker pleaded from his spot between the two aforementioned people. Booth smiled and settled back into his chair.

"Sure, buddy," he agreed. "We'll all fight crime together," he shot his friends a wink and retrieved his beer. He was suddenly reminded that Brennan didn't really know what had happened to Mather or Agent Sanders, and he sat up. "Hey Parker, why don't you go show Uncle Nate the new robot you got for Christmas?" he offered, and Parker leapt from the couch with his cape flying out behind him as he ran.

"Yeah! Come on, Uncle Nate! It's the coolest! It can flip, and swim, and walk, and do pushups all by just telling it to!" Booth gave Nate a small smile of thanks as he followed the boy down the hall, leaving Booth and Brennan alone.

"Hey Bones, you alright over there?" he asked softly, sitting forward in his chair. Her eyes snapped from his bookshelf to his eyes, startled for a moment. He saw her features relax as she realized he had spoken and she took another sip from her beer.

"Just thinking," she told him.

"Nate told me what happened to Mather," he told her. "They confronted him at a place in downtown Annapolis. He didn't go quietly, Bones, and they had to take him down before he hurt someone." She nodded her understanding, but her face was pressed into a frown. She hated when criminals were spared the justice they deserved, but she knew the agents wouldn't risk more innocent people being hurt. But as she took in Booth's face, her lips pursed tightly.

"There's more, isn't there," she asked. "What happened?"

"Agent Sanders was killed, Bones, in the shoot out," he told her. For a moment her brain whirred, trying to place the name. Suddenly it flashed in her memory and her confusion was replaced with sadness.

"He was the one who led the team into the warehouse," she confirmed, seeing his nod. "He was a good agent," she said rather flatly, unsure how close Booth had been to his fellow agent. Again, Booth nodded, but he seemed more concerned with her reaction. She set her bottle down next to his and sighed. "I don't really remember much about…the rescue," she loathed the term, as if she were some helpless damsel who had to wait for the hero to make his entrance before she could be saved. "All I really remember is you," she added quietly, and for a moment he was unsure if he'd heard right.

"Bones?" he asked softly, begging her to continue. She rarely opened up to anyone, and he counted himself lucky to be one of the ones she confided in. When she didn't continue, he moved from the chair to the sofa, sitting a little closer to her than he normally would. "I think I know how you felt there," he told her after a while. "At first it was okay," he started, seeing her hesitation. "The water wasn't too cold or too high. Mather bragged, but they all do so I didn't really pay attention. He told me that my message hadn't gotten through, but I couldn't believe him. I wouldn't. But as time went on, the water got higher and I realized that he may have been right – that I may have failed that little girl and myself." Brennan looked like she wanted to dispute him, but he held up a hand to stave her off and continued.

"By the time the water had reached my chest, I realized I had to do something. Help might have been coming but we wouldn't last much longer if we did nothing. Kaitlyn was almost completely submerged, so we worked her torso and legs free. She didn't have the strength to swim to safety, much less tread water. I didn't really think about it, I just started pushing her up. I thought that maybe, if she lived, it would have been worth it. I would have redeemed myself." He saw the tears that filled his partner's eyes, but he forced himself to ignore them for now. "When I heard the voices and the splashes, I knew she'd be safe, that I hadn't failed after all. Only problem was, I was out of time." He couldn't ignore the hitch in her breath this time and he snaked an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer as he pressed on, because if he didn't get it out now he never would. "I realized as I took in a lung full of water that there wasn't a lot of time for me," he told her. "I blacked out and died, Bones, and you know what I saw? Nothing. No white light, no comforting voice, nothing. And I wasn't shocked or disappointed because somehow I knew that it wasn't my time, that I wasn't supposed to die there on the dock. I still needed to be here for Parker as he grew up, for those victims that couldn't speak for themselves anymore, for my parents." He left off his last thought intentionally, hoping she knew what he meant. To his surprise she turned into him a little.

"For me," she finished for him. "For me _and_ the squints," she corrected. "I mean, who could possibly annoy us as much as you," she joked. He smiled and settled back against the sofa, pulling her with him.

"Yeah," he agreed softly, reaching over with his other hand and grabbing hers. He ran his thumb across her knuckles softly and smiled.. "You and the squints." After a few moments of silence, she took a deep breath and started speaking.

"I knew you would come," she said quietly, almost so he had to strain to hear. "At the warehouse," she explained unnecessarily. "While Kenton was tying me up and nicking the blade and telling me his reasons – I knew you'd come. I felt it."

"I thought you didn't believe in gut feelings," he teased her, earning him a light slap on his abdomen with her free hand.

"When you shot him, I was just so overwhelmed…then the ride back to the hospital," she trailed off. "When's the funeral?" His brow wrinkled in confusion before realization set in. _Sanders_.

"I'm not sure, Bones, but I'll call Cullen tomorrow and find out," he told her. There was a moment of thoughtful silence before Brennan's mouth curved up in a smirk and she pulled her hand from his.

"You know, I never did get to find out what your nickname in the academy was," she said, pouting a little. He chuckled at her face and sighed in mock exasperation.

"Fine, but I'm only telling you this because you're my partner and we share things. You _never_ repeat this to anyone or call it out, got that?" he pointed his finger seriously, and she bit back her laugh and nodded solemnly. "Okay, well we were about four weeks into our training and my roommate, Pomerleau, came down with the flu after a scheduled visit from his three year old son. Well in close quarters like that, if one guy gets something everyone gets something. So pretty soon our entire flight was bed-ridden. At one point the doc made his rounds with the medicine, claiming that it would make us feel better, but everyone reacted differently to it. Nothing severe, mind you." He shook his head and took a deep breath. "Well, apparently that particular medicine made me very...giddy."

"Giddy?" Brennan said, trying to suppress a smile. "As in..." she mimed something with her hands Booth couldn't follow at first, but he quickly adopted an horrific expression.

"God, Bones! No! Nothing like that," he protested. "I was just very...well I think the word Nate used was zesty. For the next six weeks I couldn't walk down a hall without someone calling me 'Giggles.'" To her credit, Brennan didn't laugh, but he could see the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. "Go ahead," he permitted, and she gave a throaty chuckle that made his heart skip a beat.

"No, it's not as bad as I thought. The way you reacted a few days ago I thought maybe it was something horrific like 'Buttercup' or something."

"Buttercup? Seriously?" He pretended to be offended and she laughed at his expression.

"Well, I'm not an expert on nicknames," she defended herself. "That's your area, apparently."

"You've go to admit...'Bones' is a pretty cool nickname," he tightened his hold around her shoulders and tucked her into his side playfully. They sat like that for a while just enjoying each other's company. When he felt her take another deep, meaningful breath, he turned toward her questioningly.

"Booth..." she started, but thought better of it. His brow furrowed as she sat forward and he pulled his arm away, leaving his hand resting on her back.

"What?" he prodded, giving her permission to ask what was apparently a very difficult question.

"It's nothing, I was just wondering..." she shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Hey, we're here, and we're sharing. What is it?" She turned her head so she could look in his eyes. She saw nothing but support and understanding, giving her the courage to voice her thoughts.

"I know in the military, especially in Special Forces, members are given nicknames or call signs. I was just wondering..."

"What mine was?" She nodded and he shook his head with a rueful smile as his arm returned to the back of the couch. "Nothing tough there Bones. All snipers have the same call sign for missions - Hatchet. Since there's usually only one sniper per mission it doesn't ever get confusing. Our captain always said it was because, as snipers, we cut the head off of the snake." She saw the storm he hid behind his care-free attitude surface for the briefest of moments, but then it was gone.

"But what about when you weren't on a mission? Or did everyone just call you Booth?"

"Most of them, yeah. There were a few who decided early on they were going to call me Boo, but that died real quick." She laughed at that, trying to picture a younger Booth up in arms about the endearing name. They heard commotion coming from the hallway and Brennan sat up quickly, wiping her eyes. Booth laid a comforting hand on her back briefly before standing and offering her his hand. He had an idea and remembered an old adage from his gambling days: _No risk, no reward_.

"Come on," he told her. "I'll get Nate to give you a ride home; you look exhausted." As he'd hoped, a look of apprehension crossed her face but she stood anyway, ignoring his hand. She followed him down the hall to Parker's room, and she stood in the doorway with him as they watched Parker trying futilely to tackle Nate. As they both laughed at their antics, Nate and Parker looked up guiltily.

"Uncle Nate started it Daddy!" Parker was quick to yell.

"Hey!" Nate shot back lightly. He grabbed Parker by the midsection and tilted him upside down, holding him with one arm as he tickled the boy mercilessly with the other.

"Uncle!" the boy laughed and Nate set the boy down. "Daddy come play!" Parker rushed over and grabbed Booth's hand. But Booth resisted his son's pulls and shook his head sadly.

"Sorry Park," he told the boy, "But Daddy's not feeling great right now. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel better and we can do something. Tonight, we'll order a pizza and watch movies."

"Yeah!" the boy jumped up and down. "Can we watch _Geppetto_?" Booth laughed and nodded at his son's finicky attention span.

"Sure buddy, why don't you go find it while I let these two out." Parker's face immediately morphed into a frown.

"Can't they stay Daddy? Please?" Nate laughed and tousled the blond hair of his godson.

"Sorry buddy, but I have to be getting home, and I think Dr. Brennan needs to as well."

"But we can have a sleepover!" Parker suddenly latched onto this newest idea and began bouncing on his toes. "Daddy'll make popcorn and ice cream floats and we can build a fort!"

"Sorry Parker," Nate said sincerely as he knelt down to Parker's level, "But I really have to go. Next time you're here, I'll take you and your dad to the amusement park, okay?" Parker nodded and threw his small arms around the bigger man's neck. Nate returned the hug fiercely, happy to have this little boy in his life. As Nate stood back up, Parker turned to Booth.

"But Daddy, does Dr. Brennan really have to go?" he asked pleadingly. "Don't go Dr. Brennan," he turned his pout on her and she fought the urge to acquiesce to the boy's request. She knew Booth was tired and he needed his rest. But as she looked up and met his eyes she saw something she couldn't define. She lifted an eyebrow at him in question, and he shrugged. Sighing, she nodded slightly, but her look let him know he wasn't going to over-exert himself trying to host her. He tilted his head slightly, agreeing to her terms. Nate watched the non-verbal exchange between the two partners and suppressed the laugh that was rising up inside of him.

"Well, I guess I'll be getting myself home," he said. "Dr. Brennan, you take care of him. It was a pleasure working with you," he told her. She nodded, taking the man's hand and squeezing it with both of hers.

"Temperance, please," she returned and he smiled warmly before turning to pull Booth into a guy hug.

"Now I don't wanna have to do this again," he said congenially. Booth nodded his agreement and Brennan realized they meant working together. Sadly, she agreed with them, hoping they wouldn't have to call upon Nate's services again. She waved goodbye as Booth shut the door after him, locking them in.

"Alright," he clapped his hands together and rubbed them quickly. "Parker, you go get the movie ready, I'll order pizza, and Bones can get the drinks." The four-year old darted into the living room and Booth and Brennan moved to the kitchen. Booth picked up the phone and ordered a pizza as Brennan pulled another beer and a bottled water from the fridge. She handed the water to Booth who groaned but knew that his body probably couldn't take another beer so quickly. He needed to keep his fluids up after all. Seeing his expression, Brennan quickly replaced her beer with a bottle water of her own and she didn't miss his smile as he told the pizza place just what they wanted on their deep dish. She looked helplessly around for something Parker could drink from, eyeing the cabinets. Booth came up behind her and reached over her shoulder to open the door, pointing at several kid-sized cups with non-spill lids. She grabbed one and twisted the top off, accepting the two-liter of Sprite that Booth had pulled from the fridge as he confirmed his credit card number.

She was filling Parker's cup when the realization of just how _domestic_ all this was slammed into her and she froze. Booth hung up the phone and turned back to her to ask her a question when he took in her expression. He pried the cup and the two-liter from her grasp, finished pouring the soda and replaced it in the fridge. She was still standing still, though her arms had moved to cover her midriff as he fitted the lid on the cup. Setting it aside for the moment, he moved to her side and rested a hand on her upper arm.

"Parker's gonna be ready with that movie," he told her softly. "Could you grab some plates and napkins on your way out?" She nodded, thanking him silently for allowing her time to collect herself as he took his and Parker's drinks out to the living area. She heard him settle the child down on the floor as she stood in the dark kitchen, listening to them in the other room. _This is stupid_, she told herself. _You and Booth are just partners – no, friends – enjoying each other's company. Besides, he needs someone to help out_. She tried to rationalize as much as possible as she grabbed the paper plates and napkins they would need for their pizza later. As she walked out she saw the opening number of the live action Disney film playing. Parker was lying back against some pillows, his cup held firmly in one hand and a plush horse in the other. Booth had settled on the couch, his back against the armrest and one leg curled up on the couch. He had left plenty of room for her to sit on the other side, but as she neared she found herself sitting a little closer to him than usual.

Their talk earlier had spooked her, and she was thankful Parker had opened up the invitation for her to stay and be near them for a while. She had to make sure Booth was okay, that he was actually alive and well. Her face flushed as she remembered her reaction at the hospital as the shock had worn off and Booth had held her as she cried into his shoulder. She saw him watching her out of the corner of his eye as most of his attention tried to focus on the screen. She forced herself to relax against the sofa cushions, her body feeling the effects of sleeping in uncomfortable hospital chairs most of the night. Her eyes drooped a little and it felt as though she'd just dozed off when a sharp knock echoed through the apartment.

"Pizza!" Parker jumped up, movie forgotten, and followed his dad to the door to help. Booth handed Parker the money and opened the door, accepting the pizza from the young man standing there as Parker paid.

"Well thanks, little man," the guy smiled at Parker. "Have a good evening, folks," he waved at Booth as he shut the door and locked it. He carried the box back to the living room where Brennan had laid out the three plates on the table. Booth dished out a small piece to Parker, who promptly reclaimed his spot on the floor in front of the television and delved back into the movie. Brennan took two slices while Booth took three, smiling sheepishly. She realized he'd had little more than a slice before the nurse had caught them all at the hospital, and he'd probably not eaten anything before that. With a start, she realized he hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday and she resolved not to eat anymore so he could get his fill. He seemed to pick up on her thoughts and took three more slices, leaving one more for Parker if he wanted it. After she'd finished her water, Brennan sank back into the couch and closed her eyes, her exhaustion finally catching up with her. Booth shook his head and stood up, grabbing one of Parker's discarded pillows from the ground and placing it where he'd just been sitting. Carefully, he pushed Brennan over so she was laying down and he tugged her shoes off her feet before pulling a throw over her.

"Parker," he whispered, "I'm going to go make up the guest bedroom for B – Temperance," he told the boy. "Can you be really quiet?" he asked. Parker nodded adamantly and obediently turned the TV down a few notches. Booth quickly made the guest bed and debated the best way to get Brennan into it. There was little chance he could lift her in his condition – his muscles were still too fatigued to manage it. If she woke up enough to realize he was steering her toward the guest room, she would demand to go home. He would argue, of course, but he'd end up calling a cab for her. He didn't know what had come over him, but seeing her in his kitchen acting as if she belonged there had stirred something up inside him. He knew she had panicked for a moment, but she seemed to have gotten over it quickly and he smiled to himself. He took a deep breath as he walked back to the living room and knelt down by the couch.

"Bones," he whispered, slipping one arm underneath her to sit her up. She mumbled something unintelligible – though he could have sworn it sounded like "going home" – and stood, though she was leaning rather heavily on him. He told her he would call her a cab as he steered her toward the bedroom. He set her down on the bed and told her to wait there while he made the call. She nodded and yawned, but he left the room for a moment to check on Parker. When he came back he smiled and did a mental victory dance. She had laid down – probably for "just a moment" – and succumbed to sleep again. He crept over and covered her up, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He pulled the door to, but didn't close it completely, knowing she'd probably be a little disoriented when she woke.

As he re-entered the living room he found that Parker, too, had fallen prey to the excitement of the day and was now fast asleep nearly on top of his pizza. He lifted the boy with some difficulty but he ignored it as he walked the boy to his room and tucked him in. Repeating the gesture, he brushed a lock of blonde hair from Parker's face. But, unlike with Brennan, he didn't resist the urge to kiss the boy on the forehead as he whispered goodnight. He cleaned up a little and turned off the television before moving to his room. He closed his door and took a deep breath, his eyes roaming over everything.

He had a few accolades adorning his wall, including the Soldier's Medal he'd received for trying to save his Army comrade and the FBI Commendation Medal he'd received for saving Nate's life all those years ago. A few photos sat on his dresser, including one of his parents and his brother and another of Parker. His favorite sat on his nightstand and he moved over to it and picked it up. It had been taken at the hospital the day Parker had been born and his mother had snapped the photo just as he had kissed his son's head for the first time. Booth set it on his nightstand to remind him every night that there was good in the world; his son was all the proof he needed sometimes.

_And other times_…he replaced his son's baby photo back in its spot and opened the drawer to pull out another picture frame. Angela had taken it the day after he'd pulled Temperance from that warehouse. She had cancelled her date with David and stayed with him, eventually falling asleep with her head resting against his bed. He had been asleep as well, and Angela had pulled her ever-ready camera from her bag and taken the picture before waking them the next morning.

He put the photo back, then quickly showered and changed into sleep pants before crawling under his covers. The coldness of the sheets shocked him momentarily, but as he drifted off to sleep he relaxed in the knowledge that his entire world was safe and sound under his roof that night.

* * *

Well that's it folks. Thanks for sticking through to the end. I hope that was enough fluff for everyone. Most of my stories have them together, so I thought it'd be nice to deviate a little and leave it with just a hint of BB future. Please let me know what you thought.

**Author's Note: **First things first, expect a B/B fluffy Christmas fic up sometime before the new year. And...

Okay, so I've got the idea for my next story, it just needs a LOT of work. So now's your chance to tell me what you'd rather have. A) a story I've already completely written and post regularly at expected intervals - in which case it will take me a while to write it **or **B) a story in progress with absolutely random updates as I finish chapters - meaning varying times between them but it would start probably around the new year, maybe sooner. Please let me know. Oh, and if anyone's read _Mooncalled_ or _Blood Bound_ by Patricia Briggs, let me know. I'd love to discuss a few things with you.


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